Winchesters on Winchesters on Winchesters
by Wordswithzeal
Summary: Who doesn't love an extra Winchester? Callie is a Taurus, enjoys cooking for the family, and kicks some major monster ass. This is how the story would have gone if Sam had a twin sister with similar abilities but a completely different attitude about the hunting life. Starts way back at the beginning. *Sisfic*
1. Chapter 1

"Would you prefer ground beef or turkey?"

Dean shoots me a glare. "Alight, alright, got it," I say, my hands raising involuntarily in surrender.

"Manly man eats cow beast and laughs in the face of puny poultry," I murmur in what I believe could quite possibly be the most accurate representation of my brother's baritone voice. His glare continues, though I catch a nearly imperceptible lift of his lips on the right side, resulting in the smallest smirk known to man. He reaches down to pat me on the head, a gesture I know he uses to emphasize our nine-inch height difference. It's not my height that really bugs me (5'4'' is totally respectable and the average female height in America, as I keep trying to explain to him). It's the fact that he, Sam, and my father are just so gigantic. You'd think, genetically speaking, I would have been predisposed to be at least a couple inches above average, especially considering the whole being Sam's twin thing.

"You know me well, squirt," Dean smirks fully, his eyes flashing, before edging around me to check out the plethora of jerkies available to him next to the meat section I'm currently perusing. I pick up the protein and balance it on the growing pile currently occupying the metal basket I'm carrying. We've been on the road a while and haven't had a chance to stop by an actual grocery store since a few hunts back, so I'm taking advantage of the veritable selection available in this Californian market. I heft the basket up once more while heading down the aisle, apparently prompting Dean to grab it from me.

"You don't have to—" Dean raises his hand to stop me.

"You cook, I carry," he responds. "But jeez, do we really need all these vegetables? They're heavy," he whines while switching carrying hands and shaking out his other arm.

"You know, eating something green every now and then won't kill you. Besides, don't forget that you're only four years from thirty. Diner food can only be metabolized so quickly in your aging body," I tease him. He pauses to whack me upside the head with a zucchini before continuing. "Haha, you're hilarious, runt. Say all you want about diner food, but it wasn't MY growth that was stunted." Now it's my turn to glare, as I run to keep up with the chuckling asshole headed towards the checkout.

It takes about ten minutes to check out and an additional five for Dean to flirt with the cashier, a young blonde who's basically catatonic at this point, meaning we leave the grocery store around midnight. We load everything into the Impala, the snacks and dry foods in the trunk and the fruits and vegetables in the small cooler I forced Dean to put in the back seat when I began developing a need for occasional fresh produce a couple years back. I love fries as much as the next gal, but I can't deny the benefits of fiber in my diet. I catch my reflection in the window illuminated by the nearby street light and take a moment to inspect the messy bun-like state my mid-length dark hair is currently maintaining on top of my head. I have no doubt I'll blend right in when we get to Stanford's campus, as my hair, in combination with one of Sammy's massive sweatshirts over a pair of leggings, leaves me looking very much like a student in the midst of exams. I even have the darkening bags under my green eyes, the same color as my eldest brothers'. What I really need is coffee, but I've never been able to stomach the stuff, so I resolve myself to just suffer on in hopes of catching some nightmare-less sleep. I slide into the passenger side next to Dean who takes one glance at me before reaching to grab the blanket we keep in the back and tossing it at me. "Try to get some rest, Callie. You look like shit," he says while turning the ignition and patting his leg, indicating the place where my head should go. I snort before laying down with the blanket. "It's not like you look any better," I yawn up at him.

"Yeah right. I always look awesome," he replies while winking at himself in the rearview mirror and placing a hand on my hair to stroke his thumb along my hairline, something both he and Sam used to do when I was young. I giggle and drift off to the soothing sounds of ACDC.

 _There's a woman on the ceiling. She's blonde like Mary was but appears younger. Flames burst around her, and she screams…_ "Callie. Cals! Wake up, squirt, it's just a nightmare." I wake to Dean's voice. My heart is pumping and a thin sheen of sweat has settled over my face and neck. When my eyes focus, I can see Dean peering down in concern while he strokes the hair back from my face. "You good?" he asks.

"Yeah," I answer slightly out of breath. "It was just a nightmare, like you said."

"Is it the same one you've been having?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Cals, I know you've been having issues sleeping. Is this about the case we worked in New Orleans because –" I cut him off,

"No, no, it's not that. I'm not sure what it is, but don't worry about me, okay? I'm sure they'll stop soon."

"In case you haven't noticed, worrying is in the job description," he replies with a look.

"Yeah yeah, I know. We need to focus on finding dad though, so let's put this on the back burner for now. I'm sure it's nothing, De." I try to get him to move on. Dean and I have become really close since Sammy left for school. We became best friends and stellar hunting partners, though he sometimes reverts back to big brother Dean when he's worried about me or Sam. I try not to give him too much to worry about because I'm sure he's developing an aneurysm now that dad's missing. That's why we're headed to Stanford to get Sammy. Dean thinks we need his help to find dad, and while I've missed Sam more than anything, I still can't help but feel guilty for asking him to leave the normal life he's worked so hard to get, even if only temporarily.

Sammy and I were always very close, nearly inseparable as kids. We always went to Dean for the big stuff, but Sam and I enjoyed knowing even the smallest things about each other. That's why I supported him wholeheartedly when he told me about his aspirations to attend college and stop hunting. While our twinness meant we had a shit-ton in common in terms of thought process, I was always much more inclined to the hunting life than Sam (we also don't actually look like twins either except for hair and cheekbones, go figure). It probably stems heavily from always having to work about three times harder to be just as good as the boys during training and, at some point, I just grew to love the job. However, I also love learning just as much as Sammy, and we always competed academically, pushing each other to do our best even while bouncing around schools. Something neither of my brothers know is that I was also accepted to Stanford; I simply decided I enjoyed hunting and research more than the idea of pursuing a degree before settling down to some normal, boring life. When Sam told me he planned to go to school, I helped him get everything set up, like his room, schedule, and meal plan because I wanted him to live his dream. I was and still am so proud of him for having the courage to stand up to our father, though I wish he'd have left Dean on better grounds than that terrible fight. I still refer to it as Samegedon in my head. Fortunately, we had a chance to say our goodbyes beforehand. We stayed in contact pretty consistently the first few months, but he eventually stopped answering my texts and emails. It hurt, but I'm pretty sure he was just trying to distance himself so he wouldn't be tempted to come back. That didn't deter me though. I've been sending him emails detailing Dean's and I's adventures almost weekly for the past four years and packages containing my famous cookies and books I thought he might enjoy. The lack of response was frustrating at first, evening causing tears at points, but I still love him as much as when he left.

I didn't try to hide our corresponding from Dean, but he didn't seem quite as enthusiastic to keep in touch, except maybe during the times when I was upset, and he sent a nasty letter or two.

"How far are we?" I ask Dean.

"We're here actually. Come on." I glance at the clock.

"Um, Dean, it's 3am. I don't think he's gonna answer the doorbell."

"Good thing I don't plan on using it then," he answers with a cryptic chuckle.

"Those are the kinds of statements that make me nervous," I say, but he's already out of the car and opening my door. I look around as I step out, noticing we're in a nice neighborhood on a street lined with houses.

"Nice place, Sammy," I mutter to myself as we approach the side window of tasteful home. Dean wastes no time in jimmying the window open and offering me a foothold to boost up on. "Let's go, squirt." I sigh but lithely jump up and into the house. Sammy's gonna kill us.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey there, I promise the rest of the chapters won't be so broken up. I just don't have time to add the rest of this episode, and I wanted to get out what I had. I'm not a huge stickler for details, so my story and dialogue will differ from the show. I also will probably skip episodes I deem kinda boring. If there's one you really want me to cover, just toss it in a review, or marinate silently in anger if I don't cover it. Both options are acceptable. If you catch any major plot holes, feel free to also comment on those. Anyways, I'm kinda just writing this as it comes outta my ass so please enjoy :)**

Dean shimmies his way through the window, standing to readjust his belt that'd gotten caught on the latch."See, the diner food is obviously not doing you any favors," I whisper at him with a smirk. He merely rolls his eyes and reaches into his pocket to pretend to grab something before pulling it out to flip me off. "You're a real charmer," I state while tip toeing backwards. I knock unceremoniously into a kitchen island, sending some massive textbook to the floor with a loud bang.

"You're a real ninja," Dean whisper yells back at me. Both our heads snap towards the hallway when we hear the obvious thuds of footsteps approaching. Dean waves me back into a corner while flattening himself against the wall leading into the hallway. I knew this was a poor decision. I should have tried harder to convince Dean to come back in the morning and not give Sammy a heart attack. It's too late though, as Sam's lumbering frame comes into view, bat in hand. For some god forsaken reason, Dean blitzes him, knocking the bat away and latching on. I can't help the chuckle that escapes as the two grunt and groan trying to gain the upper hand while knocking more shit over. Right as Dean tackles Sam to the ground completely, I notice a light switch I assume is to the kitchen and flip it on. "Whoa, easy, tiger," I can hear Dean's mischievous smile as he looks down at our brother. It turns out the switch was to a smallish lamp situated by a couch a couple feet from the kitchen. Because that makes sense. I can now actually see Sam, and he looks good. He's filled out over the years, making his frame even more massive. However, his hair still seems to be imitating the mop it always has since we were young, softening his angular features. "Dean? What the fuck…" Sam gets out breathlessly. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." I knew it.

"Seems someone's outta practice, Samm -" Dean's cut off by Sam flipping their positions. He chuckles. "Or not." Sam's back is now to me, and I can't seem to suppress the urge to give him one more little scare. I take a running leap onto his back, gently (at least as gentle as a Winchester gets) pulling him off De. I feel him automatically go to throw me off before he pauses. He stands completely and loops his arms under my legs that are around his waist, leaving me in a piggy back position, and turns his head up and to the side. "Cals?" he breathes. I grin and squeeze him from the back. "How goes it gigantor?" I ask, giving him a peck on the cheek. He quickly sets me down and turns before wrapping me in a proper bear hug, my feet lifting off the ground due to our contrasting heights. My arms immediately wrap around his neck while we stand there, or I guess I hang there, with my face buried in his neck. I love Sammy to death, but my need for oxygen eventually takes over and I wheeze out, "Missed ya too, Sammy, but, need air…must…breathe…respiration…important." Sam laughs and places me on my feet, ruffling the top of my hair and turning to face Dean, who appears to have several unidentifiable emotions crossing his face. Sam wraps an arm around my shoulders but addresses Dean, "What are you guys doing here?" I look up to see his smile has dropped and he has a slightly guarded look in his eyes. Before we can answer, a leggy blonde enters the room dressed conservatively in a Smurf shirt and panties. My breath hitches slightly, as I process the fact that she looks uncannily similar to the girl in my nightmares. "Sam, what's going on?" she asks, peering confusedly between Dean and myself under Sam's arm. While Dean takes a moment to drool, I quickly deduce this must be Sam's lady friend whose confusion seems to be developing an edge of suspicion. I escape Sam's hold, point to myself, and blurt out, "sister" while shooting her a knowing smile. I then point to Dean and explain promptly, "brother." Sam nods his head quickly.

"Yeah, Jess, this is Callie and Dean," Sam explains further. Jess visibly relaxes and lets a bright smile light up her face. Damn, Sam did well. She steps towards me and leans down to give me a quick hug from which I cringe back just slightly. Not big on contact with strangers. She pops up.

"Sorry. It's just Sam has told me so much about the famous Callie. Those cookies are delicious by the way," she smiles down at me. Well, the girl's got good taste. I glance over at Sam who gives me an embarrassed smile while running a hand through his hair. Jess leans in once more and whispers so that only I can here,

"Thank you for keeping in touch with him. I tried to get him to write you, but, well…" she trails off. I clear my throat and force a smile.

"It's fine," I say. She walks over to Sam.

"Nice outfit," Dean speaks, eyeing her. Wow, nice opener bro. "You're way out of Sam's league." Sam glares and Jess shuffles uncomfortably.

"Let me put something on," she says, glancing down at her lack of pants.

"I wouldn't dream of it," inputs Dean.

"Dean! Cease and desist before you turn into a real pig," I scold. Both Jess and Sam give me appreciative smiles. Dean pouts but continues, "We're gonna need to borrow your boyfriend."

"Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of Jess," Sam replies seeming to plant himself next to his girlfriend. Dean sighs,

"You don't understand. Dad hasn't been home in a few days." Sam rolls his eyes.

"So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or late -"

"No, Sammy," I interject. "Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days," I emphasize my words with a raise of my eyebrows. Sam freezes and asks Jess to give us the room. I make a snap decision to leave this discussion to my brothers. I don't want to double-team Sam. I'm still not fully on board with even asking for his help. I make my way the window and have one leg out before I hear Dean, "Where do you think you're going, squirt?" I look up to see both brothers gazing at me questioningly.

"Um, I think I'll leave the rest of this talk to you two." Dean looks slightly disappointed before waving me on.

"Take the safety off your gun and stay by the car," he says. Sam's eyes widen slightly, but I turn before he can ask questions.

"Got it," I say halfway down the side of the house. I make my way to Baby, feeling the wetness of dew-covered grass through my sneakers. She's parked directly beneath a streetlamp, reflecting the light due to the waxing I had to give her because of a lost bet with Dean the previous week. I lean up against the passenger door, arms crossed in front of my chest and listen to the distant sounds of my brothers discussing the possibility of Sam's departure. As much as it pains me, part of me hopes against hope that Sam will tap into that extremely stubborn side of his and refuse to come with us. Dean already has my angstometer in the red zone, and an additional brother to worry about may just send me right over the edge into crazy town. Something neither of my brothers or my father ever seemed to realize while were growing up is that I worry just as much, if not more, about them in this job than they do about me. This entire family just seems to be some kind of danger magnet, and I can only imagine how much worse Sam's presence will make it.

On the other hand, a very selfish part of me wants it to be like old times again. I want Sam and I in the back seat conspiring about ways to mess with Dean who's in the front seat discussing weaponry and muscle cars with our father on days he hasn't gone full-blown drill sergeant on our asses. I want to feel like a family. That's part of the reason I started cooking. From the few details about my mother that I've been able to glean over the years, I know she was a pretty decent cook, and I wanted to be able to bring us together if even for only a few minutes around a crappy table in a crappy motel room eating some form of casserole I whipped up in a crappy kitchenette. My musings end abruptly as Sam and Dean exit the house making a beeline for the Impala. I pop the trunk for Dean who grunts in my general direction. Sam stops beside me, ruffling my hair once more. I make a face and slap his hand away before he can continue. Dean then begins explaining our situation revolving around both dad and what now seems to be our case in Jericho since Dad's AWOL, Sam peppering in questions here and there. I'm impressed when he picks up the creepy-ass EVP on the voice message we play him. You can take the boy outta the hunt, but not the hunt outta the boy.

"Look, we haven't asked a thing of you in years," says Dean. Sam releases a small sigh before replying, "Alright. I'm in. I just need to be back by Monday."

"What's on Monday?" I ask looking up at him, my interest piqued.

"A law school interview, it's my whole future on a plate."

"That's awesome, Sammy," I beam, giving him a small side-hug. "I'll make sure we've got you back on time. Dean merely smirks before nodding and puts his hand out for Sammy to shake. "Deal?"

"Deal," Sam shakes on it. Dean walks back around, shutting the trunk and sliding into the driver's side. Sam pauses and grabs both my shoulders, turning my body to face his. "Alright, Cals, lemme get a look at you." His eyes roam over me, obviously making sure I'm in one whole piece. Both my brothers see me as the baby, especially Sam, who seems to relish the idea of also being a big brother. Who knew thirty minutes between deliveries could make such a difference in their minds? "Did you shrink an inch or too, pipsqueak?" He smiles when I punch him in the shoulder. "Shut up. We both know the only reason you're so massive is because you were a parasitic fetus. You definitely sucked nutrients outta my chord, you bastard," I chastise. Sam throws his head back for a real booming laugh, one I haven't heard in a long time and am just now realizing how much I missed. I shake my head and laugh, going for the passenger door before remembering my twin's supernaturally long legs and reaching for the back door instead. "You know, if you want to sit in the front, it's ok. I'll take the back," he says, catching my slip. "Please, gigantor, those legs of yours would have to break before you could sit back there. It's no problem as long as you're willing to put up with Dean's, ah, _consistent_ taste in music," I reply. He rolls his eyes before opening my door for me. I hop in and begin to build a small nest of blankets and rolled-up sweatshirts as pillows, wanting to catch a couple more hours of rest before getting to Jericho. "Night, squirt," Dean says while eyeing me in the review mirror. "Night, De," I reply. Sam turns in his seat to look at me, leaning forwards to peck me on the forehead. "I missed ya, Cals."

"Missed you too, Sammy," I yawn before laying down. I doze on and off to the sound of my brothers' whispered bickering.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi again. Hope all is well in your world.**

The blasting of a guitar riff jerks me awake, my head snapping back and forth in temporary confusion, trying to identify a threat. I rub enough of the shit trying to seal my eyelids together away to see my brothers laughing in the front seat, Dean's hand still on the volume dial and Sam fiddling with his phone while trying to contain his guffaws. I hear the click of a camera before I can register what's happening, the noise sending my treacherous brothers into another fit of laughter. There's a brief moment of elation at hearing them laugh together like that for the first time in years, but it's quickly replaced with annoyance at their boyish antics. After wiping the drool from my mouth (goddammit, that was in the photo), I promptly smack both men in the back of their heads. "You guys are total asswipes," I say while trying to redo my lopsided bun. "And not even the good kind." I exit the car before either of them or myself can figure out what that even means, heading towards the gas station doors. I can still hear their chuckles before the door shuts behind me. After freshening up and taking a piss long enough to rival Tom Hanks, I head back towards the Impala, meeting Dean coming into the store. He smiles and ruffles my hair as I walk past, to which I try to swat him away. "Blueberry poptarts?" he asks.

"Aw. You know me so well," I reply, batting my eyelashes. He snorts and we part ways. I slide into the back of the car, watching Sam sift through Dean's cassette tapes. "Morning, sunshine," he says without looking up. "Morning, dickhead," I respond with a grin.

"Your early-morning insult creativity is commendable," Sammy says, looking me in the eyes with a smirk on his face. "You're back for all of four hours and you guys are already torturing me—figures," I huff.

"Well I have four years' worth of teasing to make up for, pipsqueak," his voice hits a somber note, and I eye him. He looks sheepish and…guilty? But before we can continue, Dean is back, quickly detaching the gas pump from Baby and sliding in. "Think fast, squirt," he says, tossing me my pop tarts. "Thanks," I say in return.

"No problem. You want breakfast?" His question is directed towards Sam who warily eyes the junk-filled plastic bag Dean is offering him. "No thanks," he answers with a slight cringe. Recognizing the wariness of so much sugar he must have developed like any normal adult, or at least like I have, I pop open the cooler at my feet and grab a couple of red apples. I wordlessly offer Sam one. He smiles in mild relief before taking it and eating nearly half of it in the first bite. "Hey! Watch the seats!" Dean scolds. I quickly hand Sam a napkin before World War III can commence, and he catches the juice before it can hit the upholstery. "I didn't even know Dean could be near fresh produce without breaking into hives," Sam garbles around his mouthful of apple. "Yeah, well I only get the cooler because his half is filled with beer," I explain.

"Your damn right," Dean glares at the both of us.

"So, how're you paying for this stuff? You guys still running credit card scams?" Sam asks, throwing the apple core out his window.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career. Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards. And the little computer whiz back there makes it like stealing candy from a baby. We've got like ten different applications going at a time," Dean explains while hooking his thumb back at me. Sam's eyebrows raise in what looks like disdain, though I could swear there's some pride there too. He should be proud; I basically run the entire tech side of this job, and the slight carpal tunnel in my wrist requires ridiculous quantities of both ibuprofen and validation. Not to brag, but I'm good.

"Yeah? What names are on this application?" Sam asks. Dean takes a look at the card before storing it in his wallet.

"Burt Aframian, his son Hector, and his daughter Alice. Got three cards outta the deal," Dean says with a smile, raising his hand to me in a signal for a high five which I give him.

"Go team," I say. Sam just sighs, then continues,

"That sounds about right," he says, dismissing our less than legal activities. "I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection." Both Dean and I bristle at the comment. "Why?" we ask simultaneously. I'm sure it's a mixture of nostalgia and Stockholm's syndrome, but I actually enjoy Dean's music collection. I lean more towards classic rock than the metal he sometimes breaks out, I'm super into CCR, but I still deem it better than any of the frou-frou pop stuff on the radio these days. Sam looks at the both of us.

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two," Sam starts showing different tapes, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock" Dean snatches a tape from Sam's right hand, slipping it into the player, while I snatch the one in his left, sticking my tongue out at him. Sam returns the favor.

"Well, house rules, Sammy," starts Dean. I roll my eyes at the words I know are about to come out of his mouth. I support his taste in music, but I hear this spiel on a monthly basis. I keep trying to explain to Dean that heavy metal is less than appreciated when my uterus is trying to eat my insides, but he always just blushes before turning the music up. It's a good thing Sam was around to give me the talk when I was younger.

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," Dean recites his infamous catch phrase.

"Even if said shotgun is bleeding vaginally," I whisper loudly at Sam. Dean's green eyes bug out slightly while Sam lets out a laugh. He looks over at Dean.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam, okay?" Now it's my turn to laugh. Dean cranks up _Back in Black_ before turning to him,

"Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud." Sam falls back against the seat with a huff, and I crack my window open and lean back, enjoying the open road.

 **SPN**

"So, there's no one matching Dad's description at the hospital," Says Sam, flipping his phone shut.

"Or the morgue," I offer, snapping my own cell closed as well.

"So that's something," Sam and I say at the same time. We pause to look each other, surprised. Who knew it would only take a few hours of sharing the same space to get our "twin thing" back as Dean had called it when we were little. Dean pretends to shiver.

"That was creepy then, and it's still creepy now," he says. It's comforting to know that Sam and I still seem to operate in a similar headspace even after all this time and the obvious bond I've formed with Dean.

"Why?" asks Sam. "You and Cals just did the same thing."

Dean scoffs, "That wasn't weird twin telepathy. That was simultaneous acknowledgment of your poor taste in music, Samantha." Dean catches my eye in the rearview mirror, and we share a small smile. Sam glares. I reach down to my bag and grab my massive laptop. Dean got it for me for my birthday a couple years back, and I've tinkered with it somewhat since then, adding different modifications to help with research and tracking. Right now, I'm just using it to finish up some work for some courses I'm enrolled in online. I never really wanted to go to college because that would mean taking a break from the life, but I've always felt inclined to keep learning. So, I signed up for some classes through an online university when Sammy left, mostly to take my mind off of it, but also as a way to feel a little closer to him, as we'd always bonded over academics. Four years later, I'm actually really close to having a degree in both forensic science and human anatomy with a minor in folklore. To any outsider, these would appear as totally unrelated, which may be true for normal people, but I've always been intrigued by science, I even toyed with the idea of medicine before cementing myself to this lifestyle (I think I'll help more people this way), and have a very analytical brain, thus the two science majors. And I thought the folklore would be fun and possibly useful on cases. I never expected to take it this far, so I never mentioned it to my brothers, and I figure I'll wait to bring it up. Honestly, I think I'll just get the diploma mailed to one of our P.O. boxes and just stick it in the little chest I keep with fond memories. It's really not a huge deal in my mind.

"Check it out," says Dean a little while later, pointing at what looks like a crime scene coming up ahead. He pulls over and rummages around in the glove box, tossing me a badge that hits me in the head. I'm engrossed in my current assignment and would rather not leave while the mind juices are flowing. I look up briefly,

"Why don't you two take this. Sam could use the practice anyways."

"I think she's right, Sammy," Dean replies with mischief in eyes. He again rummages through the glove box for a different badge, passing it to Sam once found.

Let's go," he says. I'm immediately re-engrossed in my work once they exit, occasionally looking up to make sure they don't piss off the local authority too much. When I say "they," I mean Dean. Only a few minutes pass until they slide back in, and I set down my computer.

"What's the scoop?" I ask.

"Sammy's got a huge foot," Dean replies. I'm not super sure what that means, but Sam turns to face me with a huff.

"Cops don't know what happened. The victim's girlfriend in uptown putting up fliers. I figure that's our next stop," he explains.

"Hm. Sounds about right. Local cops never have a clue," I say. I may make sure Dean doesn't anger them, but it's true, they're helpless.

"Ha! Told you, bro. Thanks for having my back, squirt," Dean smirks in triumph.

"What?" I ask, not sure what I'm backing him up on. He doesn't reply, just gives Sam a look to which he rolls his eyes.

"Whatever," he mutters. We drive into town.

 **SPN**

Walking around, we eventually bump into a young woman I immediately peg as the missing boy's girlfriend. She's tacking up a poster when we walk up.

"You must be Amy," Dean approaches her. She nods.

"We're Troy's cousins," I make up. "I'm Callie, that's Dean, and that's Sam. It's just terrible what's happened." She looks suspicious.

"He's never mentioned you guys before," she says while turning to walk away. All three of us follow. Good to see we all aced How to Creep a Witness Out 101.

"Well, we're not around much. We're from Modesto. We drove down to help look for him," Sam tries to explain as another girl walks up to ask if Amy's okay.

"You mind if we ask you guys some questions?" I ask, motioning to a diner. After twenty minutes of conversation, we learn about some local legend of a mysterious hitchhiking lady who enjoys murdering the driver. At least we assume it's murder, as they're never heard from again. She sounds like a real bitch and something right up our super weird alley. We decide to head to Sam's and I's natural habitat, also referred to as the library.

We're using the two computers available, Dean and I searching the archives of the _Jericho Herald_ , Sam supervising in a very twitchy manner. I can tell he wants in on the search. When Dean's searches come up empty, Sam leans in.

"Let me try," he states.

"I got it," replies Dean. Before a cat fight can ensue, I start to stand.

"Here Sammy, take mine." He ruffles my hair gratefully and waves for me to keep sitting. He moves my chair aside slightly and starts typing. Dean rolls his eyes.

"You're such a control freak," he tells our brother. Sam ignores him. I speak up,

"I have an idea. Maybe the woman wasn't killed. If angry spirits are born out of violent deaths, maybe it was suicide." Sam and I say the last word at the same time.

"Glad we're on the same page," he smiles down at me.

"Still creepy," mumbles Dean.

An article with several pictures pops onto the screen, explaining the suicide of Constance Welch in 1981. It looks like her children drowned in the bath, and she jumped off a bridge due to the guilt. At least, according to her husband, Joseph.

"That bridge look familiar?" Asks Dean pointing to a picture of the bridge the crime scene had been at earlier in the day.

 **SPN**

It's dark when we drive up to the bridge where Constance died. We all climb out and begin to walk along the railing, Dean in front of me and Sam behind. It seems with Sam around again, both my brothers have fallen back into their compulsory habit when we were teenagers to always keep me covered, specifically. While I'm confident they're both aware of my ability to take care of myself, there's something about being the baby, even if only by half an hour, that has their brains wired to protect. I've never been sure how I feel about that. I'm very protective by nature, so I get annoyed when there's no one watching _their_ backs; however, I understand they have those exact same feelings when it comes to me, so I indulge them at times. There's no point in causing a fuss. We all stop to lean on the railing and look down.

"So, this is where Constance took the swan dive," Dean breaks the silence.

"You think dad would have been here?" Sam asks. Oh no. This is so not gonna end well. Dean looks to him.

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him," he replies, tense. Dean starts walking again, and we follow.

"Okay, so now what?" Sam presses.

"We keep digging 'til we find him," says Dean.

"Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back on Monday," Sam stresses. Oh yeah. I'd actually forgotten about that. But I made Sammy a promise, so when Dean turns around, I give him a look of steely determination. He knows I mean business.

"Monday. Right. The interview." I can hear the disappointment.

"Yeah," Sam sighs. I see it when Dean makes the decision to push the subject. I think I can actually see the shit slowly hitting the fan.

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some serious lawyer. Marry your girl?" Dean pressures.

"Maybe. Why not?"

"Yeah, why not?" I contribute. I want this so badly for Sammy. I won't let Dean bully him out of a normal life.

"Stay out of this Cals," Dean throws at me. I try to keep a cool head while he continues at Sam, "Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done? Sam doesn't answer but starts to step towards Dean. My body automatically tightens watching the two of them carefully, ready to spring in between at any sign of physical confrontation.

"No, and she's not ever going to know," says Sam into Dean's face.

"Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are," replies Dean. He then turns quickly to keep walking, and Sam follows. I move to get on the outside of them, so it's easier to keep them apart if necessary.

"And who's that," asks Sam. I really wish they'd quit egging each other on.

"You're one of us," Dean waves his hand from himself to me. He and I both know that's not true, so I'm not sure why he's doing this other than the fact that he doesn't want to lose his brother again. Sam's anger is palpable at this point.

"No. I'm not like you and Callie. This is not going to be my life."

"You have a responsibility to-" Dean tries to say, but Sam interrupts,

"To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back," Sam spits. My heart lurches. I don't think there's a worse thing he could have said. I can almost see Dean's control snap as he lunges for Sam's collar. I try to stop him, but he shoves me aside, probably rougher than intended, as I stumble over some uneven pavement onto my knees. I look up from the ground to see Sam up against a railing. Dean is breathing heavily with anger. "Don't talk about her like that," he snarls. He releases Sam and walks away, obviously trying to cool off. Sam smooths his shirt quickly before coming to my side. I suddenly realize I'm still on the ground, slightly shocked. Dean's never done so much as step on my toes before, excluding training, and even then, he went easy until it proved unnecessary to do so. "You okay, pipsqueak?" Sam asks, grabbing me around the ribcage and practically putting me on my feet. He moves some hair out of my eyes when I look up at him. I decide to brush this off. Dean didn't mean it. "Yeah, I'm good, gigantor," I say, giving him a timid smile. I see his fists clench slightly and know he'll probably be discussing this with Dean later, though I know Dean well enough to know he'll have apologized by then. "He just needs to cool off," I tell Sam. "Besides, I've taken harder hits from toddlers." Sam relaxes slightly, and we begin to walk in the direction our brother went. We've just caught up when I see the ghost of Constance outside the railing on the edge of the bridge.

"Sam, Dean," I get their attention while running towards her. She leaps before I make it. "Where'd she go?" asks Dean, as he comes up behind me, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"Uh. Down," I answer. That's when we hear the roar of Baby's engine. Dean pulls his keys out of his jacket pocket.

"Fuck," I say. The car rockets forward, headed straight for us and blocking any potential exit.

"Go. Go!" both my brothers yell. We start to run, them pushing me forward.

"We're gonna have to go over!" I call. "Grab the railing." Before I've finished talking, all three of us are swinging our bodies sideways. I try to take my own advice but slip and tumble into the river below.

The water is colder than I anticipated as I make impact. Fortunately, I don't hit any rocks, but I have to fight the current to shore where I see what's either my brother or a new species of mud monster (that's right, a _new_ one because there already is one) flopping around on the shore. He sees me coming and immediately positions himself so that he can drag me in by my jacket. I lay on top of him for a second, gasping slightly, not minding the mud. I feel his hand stroke my hair. "You okay, Cals?" he asks. I slap his chest twice before moving to sit up and respond,

"Just a little damp, Deno." He sighs in relief. "You on the other hand," I pretend to gag at the smell of his mud-caked form. Before his can attack me with muck, we hear Sam.

"CALS! DEAN!"

"What?" Dean calls up. We see Sam lean over the ledge.

"You guys alright?" We both hold up signs indicating our alrightness. He laughs. It takes a minute to climb back up, and when I reach the top, Sam immediately looks me over and removes his jacket. I push it back at him, as I'm too wet for it to make much of a difference. However, Dean snatches it from his hands and puts it around my shoulders anyways with a warning look. I can't help the chuckle that escapes at seeing his intimidating face made less so by the mud clinging to him.

"Thanks, Sammy," I surrender. He nods and looks to Dean, his nose wrinkled.

"You smell like a toilet," he informs. I take a whiff.

"He's right, De," I say with a smirk. Dean simply glares, flicks my nose, and goes to check his Baby.

 **SPN**

We're currently standing in what was apparently our father's motel room. It's a hot mess. It might even qualify as a scorched mess.

"Whoa," Sam breathes. I concur. This is not my father's style at all.

"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least," says Dean, recoiling from a nasty burger he put his nose up to. A true genius, that one. We soon notice that the mess isn't the only surprise. Turns out dad was onto the same lead we were, but he got further. We're dealing with a woman in white.

"All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have torched the corpse," supplies Dean. From there, we decide we need to make a visit to Joseph Welch and ask about his wife's burial. Dean looks pointedly at me. "You need to get warmed up. Take the shower in our room and I'll take this one." I don't argue, as I can feel the goose bumps forming on my skin, and I really don't want to have to shave soon. Dean continues at Sam,

"All right. Why don't you see if you can find an address, I'm gonna get cleaned up."

Before he reaches the bathroom, Sam stops him,

"Hey, Dean." Dean turns. "What I said earlier, about mom and dad, I'm sorry."

"No chick-flick moments," Dean replies. "Exceptions are only valid for squirt," he says, looking me right in the eyes. Aw, love you too, big bro. Sam laughs and nods.

"Alright. Jerk," says Sam.

"Bitch," is Dean's witty reply.

"Imbeciles," I say overly exasperated. We all laugh.

After getting dressed, I head back to dad's room to find Dean still in the shower and Sam looking at a photograph. "What's that?" I ask, moving closer. Sam simply holds it out towards me. It's an image of our father holding both Sammy and me on his knees with a grinning eight-year-old Dean sitting on the hood of the Impala next to him. I feel a tear on my cheek and Sam's large arm placed around my shoulders.

 **SPN**

The next morning, we're preparing to go talk to Joseph when my phone starts vibrating. It's from Dean who just walked outside. "What's up?" I answer.

"Five-oh, squirt, take off."

"What about you?"

"They kinda already spotted me."

"Got it. Try not to make them angry," I reply.

"No promises," I can hear his fucking smile as I snap the phone shut and begin bustling around to grab our stuff. Sam looks at me questioning.

"Five-oh, Sammy. We gotta go. Dean'll be fine," I explain. He nods and collects his things. We exit through the bathroom window, Sam giving me a boost up before climbing into the Impala and peeling away.

We make it to Mr. Welch's house quickly and approach the front. It's not exactly a nice place, one might even call it a dump. I sure as hell would. Sam knocks, and we wait. An old man steps out. "Hi, are you Joseph Welch?" inquires Sam.

"Yeah," is the man's gruff reply.

"We're reporters. Could me ask you a couple questions?" Sam asks, pointing from me to himself and back again. He nods, and we begin walking through the junkyard, asking questions he claims to have already been asked, most likely our father. I don't think we're gonna get any new information until Sam starts explaining the whole woman in white deal and Joseph seems to crack. He was definitely unfaithful.

It's nightfall by the time I decide enough is enough. I'm sitting next to Sam in the car when I dial 911 and report gunshots on Whiteford Road. Sam gives me an incredulous look to which I just shrug. A little while later, Sam's phone rings, and he picks it up. I can hear Dean from my seat.

"Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal."

"Wasn't me. It was our own little delinquent," he says, smirking in my direction.

"You're welcome!" I call, and hear Dean's chuckle.

"Listen, we gotta talk," says Dean. He goes on to explain how Dad's left Jericho, and we're now in possession of his journal. This worries me. Dad would never leave that thing if it weren't serious. We also apparently have coordinates to follow now too. Awesome. The plot thickens. I look to Sam and see the same worry reflected back at me. When I turn to face the road again, I immediately slam on the brake, causing Sam to drop the phone. Constance is in the middle of the street, at least until she pops into the back seat. "Take me home!" she screeches.

"No," Sam and I both say at the same time. I can hear Dean yelling our names through the phone on the floor. Constance glares and apparently works her wacky ass ghost magic to lock the doors and slam the gas pedal down. Sam tries to pry the doors open while I try to take back control of the car, but our efforts seem futile. Ten frustrating minutes later, we're parked in front of what looks like Constance's old house from the photos I saw.

"I can never go home," she whispers, somber.

"You're scared to go home," says Sam, mulling something over in head. I can tell. That's when it clicks, but Constance is suddenly in Sam's lap. God, I do not need to see my brother get lap dance, especially of the necrophilia variety.

"Hold me. I'm so cold," she purrs. Casper the friendly whore. I continue banging on the windows, trying to find an escape.

"You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!" Sam reasons.

"You will be," she says before kissing him. Ugh. She disappears for a moment, and we look around. Suddenly, I see her flicker in front of Sam, her fingers digging into his shirt. He yells in pain, and I act on reflex, jumping onto his lap in between his chest and her hand, taking her fingers in my back. They burn like a mother, and I scream. "Callie!" Sam yells, trying to flip our position. The pain is white hot now, so I've never been more grateful for a gunshot in my life. It shatters the window causing Constance to flicker. Dean keeps firing when she reappears, and Sam takes the opportunity to hop into the driver's seat.

"I'm taking you home," he says before slamming the gas down and ramming the Impala into the house. He puts an arm out to keep me from flying through the windshield, but we still get tossed around. I'm dazed for a second, but then hear Dean's frantic voice. "Sam! Squirt! You okay?" We both groan in response. Dean reaches the driver side first. "Can you move?" He asks Sam.

"Yeah. Help me out," is his reply. I sigh in relief, leaning back against the seat until I feel a wetness on my back. That'll have to be dealt with later. Both of my brothers come around to my side. Dean swings the door open and kneels down in front of me. "You alright?" he asks. I nod and put an arm out. Dean stands and takes it, pulling me up, while Sam steadies me by the waist when I wobble on my feet. I regain my balance quickly. "I'm good guys," I say, looking at their concerned faces. I catch sight of some blood on Sammy's forehead and stand on my tip toes to wipe it away. "Are _you_ ok?" Before he can answer, Constance flickers into view, obviously pissed, and pins us against the car with a dresser. A second later, some creepy ghost children descend the stairs, her children, I'm guessing. "You've come home to us, mommy," they say before all three melt into the floor. Thank God. The boys shove the dresser off of us. "Nice work guys. You found her weak spot," Dean compliments. He slaps us both on the back, causing me to groan from my injury. Dean immediately notices and motions for me to sit and face inside the car. Sam answers, "yeah, I wish I could say the same for you two. What were you thinking taking her attack?" obviously directed at me, "and you, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?" referring to Dean. "Hey. Saved your ass," answers Dean while lifting my shirt up to check my back. "Ditto," I throw out. I hear Sam hiss and realize my mistake. "It's not too bad, Cals. I'll clean it up in a few," says Dean, ignoring Sam. That's what I figured, but I know that's not why Sam looks so worried when I turn back around. "What the fuck is that, Callie?" Sam asks, obviously referring to the giant scar on my lower right side, near my hip, which is actually beginning to throb now. I sigh and look to Dean. He shrugs, letting me decide whether or not to tell Sam. "Can we talk about it later, Sammy? It's not a problem currently, and I know we're all tired," I say, making the best puppy dog eyes I can. Sam sighs. "Fine, but there will be a later," he says pointedly. Dean claps his hands together. "Well that should be fun. And I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car, I'll kill you," he addresses Sam directly, his face as serious as it gets. We both laugh.

After a tense car ride back to Jericho in which Sam solidified his stance on doing that interview, we arrive back at his place. I'm disappointed he has to leave, but I'm proud of him none the less and excited that he's going after what he wants. I mimic Sammy's motions and get out of the car, Dean choosing to stay in his seat. We stand there for a hot second just looking at each other before he sweeps me up in a hug. "It was good to see you, pipsqueak," he says in my ear before putting me down. I smile up at him. "You too, gigantor."

"Promise me you'll be careful, alright?" he squeezes my shoulder.

"I'll do my best," I respond, jumping up to peck him on the cheek.

"I promise to write back this time," he says.

"Mmhm," I hum. I'm not holding my breath on that. Sam grimaces before leaning down to address Dean, "call me if you find him?" Dean nods. Sam opens the door for me, and I hop in. He pats the car before turning away. "Sam?" Dean calls. He looks back expectantly. Dean gestures between the three of us, "you know, we made a hell of a team back there." He's definitely not wrong.

"Yeah," Sam supplies before walking into his building. I watch until the doors swing shut. Dean pats me on the knee and we drive off.

A few miles down the road, Dean turns to me looking a little uncomfortable. "Callie, look, um, I just want to apologize for the way I treated you on the bridge, I-" I put my hand up to stop him.

"Dean, it's okay, you were upset. Honestly, I'd already forgotten," I say, trying to put him at ease. And it's true, I hadn't even thought of it since it happened.

"Squirt, you've always been a little too forgiving. It's not okay, and the next time I treat you like that, I need you to give me a swift kick to the jewels," he says gruffly, obviously feeling guilty.

"Well when you give me a free pass, how can I resist," I smirk at him, knowing this kind of talk makes him uncomfortable. He smiles gratefully and reaches to turn up the music. Before he can do so, the radio begins to go in and out. "What the hell?" he mutters. Out of nowhere, my head feels like it's splitting in two. I gasp and curl in on myself. All I can see are images of my nightmare, a woman, Jess, screaming on the ceiling. Now I see Sam yelling for her. Things slowly come back into focus. "Cals? Cals! Callie!" I hear Dean calling my name and feel his hand rubbing my back. "Sam" I gasp out. Apparently, that's all I need to say, as Dean does a super illegal U-turn, and we're on our way back to Stanford. We screech to a halt in front of the building only to see flames pouring through the back window. Dean hops out. I try to follow, but my head is still too cloudy to allow standing. "Stay in the car!" Dean calls back at me half-way to the porch. A minute later, my head has cleared, and I can see Dean dragging a hysterical Sam out of the house. "What happened!?" I question, coming up beside them.

"Jess," Dean says, nodding towards the fire. Sam has quieted now and just stands there.

"Oh, fuck, Sammy," I say as I wrap my arms tightly around his waist. One of his arms comes up to hold me half-heartedly. Dammit, I kinda liked Jess; she liked my cookies. We stand like that until the fire fighters put the flames out. Sam escapes my grip and pops the trunk of the impala. He looks us both in the eye, "we've got work to do." We certainly do.


	4. Chapter 4

It's been a week. A whole seven days and we found a shit ton of jack and an equal amount of squat. Zero murders, zero disappearances, not even a garbage can on fire to keep hobos warm. And all I can focus on besides Sam's sad face is this guilt eating me up from the inside. Maybe if I'd have taken my nightmares more seriously, Jess would be alive and Sammy would be out buying a new briefcase for law school. I haven't had one since the night of the fire, and I don't plan on talking about them for the simple reason of not wanting my brothers to hate me. Well, Dean would probably just think I'm insane, but Sam would definitely hate me. Jess was his world.

I've cooked nearly every night since we were crashing at Sam's place. I had hoped it would cheer him up a bit, but I think I maybe saw him take a couple bites in total. I'm worried about him, and so is Dean, though he still wolfed down more than his share fair of entrees. Now we're back on the road headed towards this Black Water Ridge to try and find Dad. I can't help but feel like we're on some wild goose chase, and it's actually starting to piss me off how dad refuses to contact us. I don't get angry often, but John Winchester's antics can do that to a person. I love and respect the man, but our relationship has always been a little weird. Growing up, I could tell he saw me differently than the boys. His eyes were softer when he addressed me, and he was always much more comfortable showing me affection than Dean or Sam, probably due to some weird daddy-daughter instinct. However, when training started, everything flipped. He was on my ass more than my own pants about running, shooting, fighting, research, etc. Now I know he just had to push me the hardest because I was the smallest and had to be just as good, if not better, than my brothers in order to survive. But it was hard growing up like that. Like the boys, I was balancing school and hunting (well, Dean wasn't really into the whole school thing) but also the cooking and cleaning. I've never felt taken advantage of, but I do feel certain pressure to act like the "mom" our family never really got the chance to experience. I guess you could say I was overwhelmed at times, and it put some strain on the whole daddy-daughter relationship. Especially when him and Sam started having issues. To be honest, I'm a lot more like Sammy when it comes towards my attitude about dad. He's extremely bossy, a bona fide hypocrite, and less than available when needed. The core of my problem really stems from how shitty he treats Dean, who looks up to the man like nothing else. De was the one who raised us, yet dad somehow thinks he can still boss us around and, and…ugh, never mind. Let's just leave it at I'm conflicted.

I'm pulled from my musings by Sam, as he jerks upright in the front seat, obviously waking from a nightmare. That's gotta be like the tenth one this week. I know he didn't sleep at all the night before Jess's funeral, and I doubt he's gotten any real shut eye in the last seven days. I'm almost to the point of slipping him a couple Xanax. I can tell Dean is too when he takes a look at our brother. "Another nightmare?" he asks. I roll my eyes. Sometimes I think he gets a kick out of saying obvious things. Sam merely huffs. "You wanna drive for a while?" I nearly choke on the apple I'm eating, and Sam laughs, turning to look at me. It's the first I've heard since the fire, so I consider it worth almost dying from improper fruit consumption. "Dean, your whole life, you never once asked me that." That's highly accurate. It took three long years of convincing to get Dean to let me drive, which usually only happens when he is physically incapable of keeping his eyes open. Or he's in jail. Dean looks slightly sheepish. I think our brothers' grief makes him uncomfortable. "Just thought you might want to. Never mind," he huffs.

"Look, man, I know you and Cals are worried about me," Sam shoots me a quick glance before continuing, "I get it, and thank you both, but I'm perfectly okay," he finishes. Dean mutters an "Mm-hm" under his breath at the same time I mutter "bullshit" under mine. Sam pretends to ignore us and grabs the map. "We're just outside Grand Junction," I inform him. He releases a sigh before speaking, "maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon." He looks somberly to his hands. Oh, Sammy. I reach forward to squeeze his shoulder, but he just shakes it off. I'm not offended; he just lost the love of his life and is currently dealing with the fact that we have no idea where our father or her killer is. I lean back and decide to boot up my laptop to do some work while the talk. I wiggle ungracefully into a crisscross-applesauce position, trying to keep my skinny jeans up at the same time.

"Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica-"

"We gotta find dad first," Sam finishes for Dean. Dean nods.

"Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence. Dad will have the answers. He'll know what to do." I wish possessed the same confidence in our father that Dean does when he speaks those words. In all honesty, it's hard to miss something you never had. I never had a mom growing up, and even though there are times I long for a mother-daughter connection, I just don't seem to carry the same amount of vengeance that Dean and my dad, and now Sam do. However, I do know that whatever it was that attacked our mother when Sammy and I were infants, it keeps hurting people, and that is not acceptable. Besides, it's my job to protect my brothers on this crusade, so I have no plans to let this bastard off the hook.

"It's weird, man. Theses coordinates he left us." Sam gestures towards the slip of paper bearing said numbers, "this Blackwater Ridge."

"What about it?" asks Dean. I know what Sam's about to say, as I got a look at the map earlier this morning.

"There's nothing there. It's just woods," he indicates by circling his pointer finger over a very barren portion of the map. "Why is dad sending us to the middle of nowhere?" That's the million-dollar question, Sammy.

 **SPN**

It was a gift to reach the ranger station. The car ride had been both agonizingly awkward and odorous, as Dean had thought Mexican was the best choice for lunch. I think both my brothers should be checked for lactose intolerance. The station isn't anything special, not that I have much to compare it to. Hunting isn't exactly the kinda job where we can afford to go hiking much; however, camping has been of interest to me since Dean let us sleep under the stars at Bobby's salvage yard a couple times.

Sam and I wonder to the large relief map while Dean peruses the plentiful memorabilia. "So, Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote," says Sam, pointing at the various ridge lines. "It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver gold mines all over the place."

"Maybe we'll hit jack pot," I say, imagining us digging up chunks of gold instead of moldy old bones. Neither brother responds.

"Dudes, check out the size of this freaking bear," Dean exclaims, indicating to an image of a grizzly that looks like it could only be taken out by some kick-ass artillery, a grenade launcher, perhaps. I catch the first view lines off a nearby pamphlet and relay to him, "a dozen or more grizzlies in the area. Ain't no nature hike." Dean's eyes widen slightly before a forest ranger walks up behind us.

"You folks aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?" he asks, eyeballing the three of us. Sam quickly explains how we're students from a semi-local college, but I can tall Mr. Tall Hat doesn't believe a word. He calls bull.

"You're friends with the Haley girl, right?" He presses. We share a glance between the three of us, wordlessly deciding to milk the story he's feeding us. So, Dean answers,

"Yes. Yes, we are, sir."

"Alright, listen up. Her brother filed a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the 24th, so it ain't exactly a missing persons now is it?" He explains, exasperated. "You tell that girl to quit worrying." I don't know this girl, but I can already relate to worries. If either of my brothers went off into grizzly-filled woods, I'd be stirring up a storm, missing or not.

"We will," Den states. "Well that Hayley girl's quite a pistol, Huh?"

"That is putting it mildly," says the ranger. I'm thinking I might like this Haley. Dean convinces ranger Tight Ass to give us a copy of the permit before we're out the door headed for Baby. Hopefully I can breathe clean air in there now.

"You cruising for a hookup?" Sam asks Dean.

"What do you mean?" Dean sounds slightly affronted.

"Let's go find dad. We have the coordinates. Why even talk to this girl?" Sam presses. I share a glance with Dean. That is so not Sam's style. He's methodical not suicidal.

"Maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it, Sammy," I explain slowly. There's a pregnant pause where both Dean and I stare at him.

"What?" He asks.

Dean speaks, "Since when are you all shoot first, ask questions later?"

"Since now." I can see something eating away at him, and it hurts that he won't open up about it, especially to me. He slips into the passenger seat without looking at us. I guess the conversation is over.

 **SPN**

I was right. I like Haley Collins. She's a badass chick who asks for ID and has good taste in cars. Unfortunately, based on the looks she is currently giving Dean while explaining the situation of her missing brother, she doesn't play for the other team. Or both teams, like myself. It's as much fun to steal Dean's date as it is to find one he hates. The video she is currently pulling up of her brother, Tommy, pulls me from my thoughts. Everything appears pretty normal until I catch what appears to be flicker of a silhouette behind his tent. I can tell Sam catches it too when he stiffens and asks her to forward him the videos.

"You see that," I whisper to him. He nods. Dean informs Haley that we're apparently headed out to the ridge in the morning. And it doesn't surprise me in the least when she informs us that she plans to hire a guide to take her and her younger brother, Ben, out as well to look for themselves. I would do the same. I think all three of us would, as none of us protest.

 **SPN**

I may be just 22, but I've spent a fair share of my life in bars, especially as puberty and constant training started gifting me with the assets required to help Dean rake in some extra cash. He hated when I did it, but he couldn't deny my more than lucrative results. I've never minded anyways. I know how to handle myself, and it can actually be kinda nice to cut loose for a few hours, or even a night if I was feeling generous. I'm no whore, like Dean, but I've had a couple close encounters I'd deem exciting. I've still got on my relatively snug skinny jeans from this morning, but I decide to remove the green checkered flannel, so as to only don my tight white, scoop-neck tank top that I pull up just slightly to reveal my navel. Before Dean, who's seating across from me with his eyes glued to a waitress' behind, can notice, I slip on the black pumps I hid in my lap top bag in order to add a couple inches to both my height and ass. Dean catches on to my plans when I release my hair from its bun-like prison. Fortunately, Sammy is in the bathroom, so I only have one suspicious brother to convince.

"Callie," he says with a touch of warning. I try to put a steely expression on.

"Come on, Dean, you know we're low on cash." It's true. We can't always rely on plastic to pay for everything. I'm good, but I can't keep track of every card the banks decide to cut funds to.

"So, what. We're in the middle of the woods, Cals, we might be sitting in the only place that even requires payment. Besides, I don't want my little sister getting hit on by a bunch of bearded lumberjacks just for a couple bucks. Why don't you research with Sam, and I'll hustle some pool?" While his concern is endearing, it doesn't change the fact that we need to restock on liquid funds.

"First, De, you know I can make a lot more a lot faster in this place than you. Not that you're not very pretty," I deadpan. He glares. "Second, we need the money. You never know when you're gonna need to bribe a dude, even in the woods. Thirdly, then don't watch," I finish with a small smile and a pat on his hand. He knows I know I'm right. He lets out groan and rubs a hand down his face.

"Fine. But if there's any funny business, just come get us."

"Dean, you know from personal experience that I can handle funny business all on my own," I remind him, going to stand. He quickly notices my height change.

"Ugh, not the heels," he moans. I smirk.

"Fast cash, big bother, fast cash." I give him a wave before going off to wriggle myself into what appears to be a pool tournament for the drunkest guys in the joint. Like usual, they're hesitant to let a lost little lady like myself get involved in a big-boy match; however, with enough swaying of my hips and reassurances of my pleasure to meet the $20 entry fee, I'm slotted against my first opponent. Half way through my third match, I look up to see the glares of my brothers. Their gazes are obviously directed at the wrinkly dude in the wife beater that just squeezed my ass. What they didn't see was me tug him by the balls until he apologized and left me alone to hit on some cougar in the corner. Unsurprisingly, I win the whole damn thing, though I have to play it off as beginner's luck. Everyone's drunk enough to not realize my hustle and simply fork over the cash along with several offers of "the best night of my life." Tempting. I eventually brush them off and clack my way back over to my less-than-impressed brothers. Without a word, I split my $600 three ways, handing Sam and Dean their cut. Dean raises his eyebrows to me, and I raise my fist. His eyes squint at me. "I will not fist bump you for that. I don't want to encourage slutty behavior," he explains. I glare and slide in next to Sammy who glances down at the pile of bills. "I feel dirty even accepting this. Since when do you hustle anyways?" he asks, glancing at Dean while grabbing the nearest jacket (Dean's) and offering it to me to put on. "Since I got good at it, gigantor," I say, slipping my arms into his giant sleeves and reaching down to remove my heels.

"Dean," he says, giving my brother a pointed look.

"Oh, no ya don't, Sammy," I say before they can have a discussion about me while I'm sitting right there.

"Dean knows I kick ass just as well as I play pool, and it's not up to him or you if I wanna chip in. You guys used to do it all the damn time anyways. Besides, I just scored you both 200 bucks. Show your gratitude by shutting up, please." I end my small tirade with a smirk to both men and take a swig of the beer Dean ordered for me. They both release a frustrated sigh, tucking the money into their wallets but seem to drop it for now. Good.

"So, did you guys figure anything out?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Yeah," Sam perks up. "So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic. Local campers, mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found," he explains, as he pulls out some articles from dad's journal.

"Any before that?" asks Dean. Sam nods.

"Yup, looks like every 23 years starting somewhere back in 1936, like clockwork." I chew slowly on some bar nuts, contemplating that new information. Both Sammy and I decide to go over that video again just to see if we were right about the flicker. We were.

"That's three frames. That's a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move," Sam informs Dean. Dean smiles triumphantly and smacks Sam in the shoulder before saying,

"told you something weird was going on." I roll my eyes at his child-like giddiness. Sam does to.

"Yeah," our middle brother surrenders unenthusiastically. "There's one more thing," he continues, looking at the both of is before handing me a newspaper article. Dean promptly snatches it away before I can react. I stick my tongue out at him, scrunching my nose. He makes a ridiculous face. Sam goes on as if nothing happened,

"In 59, one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid. Barely crawled out of the woods alive."

"He still alive?" I ask. Sam buries his nose in his laptop before indicating a yes.

"And he still lives in the area," he reads off, "Mr. Shaw."

"Why don't you to give him a visit, and I'll whip up some dinner back at the hotel. The oven looked in pretty good condition," I suggest. While I enjoy cooking, I really just want twenty minutes to ice my back. It's been bothering me recently, and I don't want either of them to worry. After Jess' death, Sam seemed to forget what he saw in Jericho when Dean pulled my shirt up. I'd rather just keep it that way.

"You sure?" Dean asks. "We could just get something here. I'm not sure how long this'll take."

"It'll be fine," I reassure. "Besides, I've got the stuff for meatloaf," I say, wriggling my brows at both my brothers. They both perk up slightly, and agree to drop me off at the motel as long as they salt all the doors and windows themselves. I knew they'd give in. My meatloaf is their favorite.

We stand to leave, and Dean slaps a few bills on the table. I go to give Dean his jacket back, but he tells me to just keep it for the time being while tossing a glare at the group of drunkards I hustled who happen to still be eyeing me. I decide to just keep the tent on until we exit to give him some piece of mind. There is no need to for him to worry over two siblings. Sammy is the main concern.

 **SPN**

I'm just tossing an ice pack back in the freezer when I hear my brothers outside the door, obviously having returned from Mr. Shaw's. They're bickering about something "corporeal" I think? I'm pulling the freshly baked meatloaf out of the oven as they walk in. Sam looks slightly annoyed carrying our duffel of arsenal while Dean just looks impassive. Sam drops the bag on one of the beds and immediately heads to the bathroom, probably for a minute of peace.

"Everything alright?" I ask Dean. He looks up at me and shakes his head slightly.

"I don't know Cals. He's just off, you know? He's not acting like the humanitarian he used to be. He started questioning why we should even help that Haley girl in the first place." I can tell he's worried.

"He just needs time, De. He lost the biggest part of his life just a week ago." He gives a frustrated nod before heading my way and changing the subject.

"This looks great, Squirt. Mmm, smells even better," he compliments while sticking his nose near the dish on the counter. "Minus that bowl of rabbit food," he points to the salad I've tossed. I roll my eyes.

"You may think you'll go out in a blaze of glory, but I'm convinced it'll be heart disease." I feel proud of the chuckle that produces from him.

"You need any help?" he asks, still smiling.

"Nah, just gotta set the "table"," I answer. I put air quotes around table because it's more of a counter. He drops a pat to the top of my head before grabbing the plates and utensils himself. I nod in appreciation and move the food over. Dean wastes no time before digging in, making sounds I hope to never hear him make outside of eating. Around a mouthful, he yells, "Sammy! Soup's up." Sam exits the bathroom looking only slightly less annoyed, and I make him a plate. "Sit down, Sammy, and tell me what you guys learned," I smile up at him hoping to lift his mood some. He offers a small smile in return.

"Thanks, Cals. Looks great," he says before eating a forkful. "Mmm, I've missed your cooking." It feels good doing this for them.

"So, what do we know?" I ask, trying to get them back on the case. Sam answers, as Dean still has his mouth full,

"Well whatever it is, it can apparently unlock doors, move at the speed of light, and it shredded his parents before dragging them off." There's a tickle in the back of mind, but I can't quite place it.

"Maybe a skinwalker or a black dog?" I throw out a couple suggestions. Dean takes a large sip of water before speaking,

"That's what I said. Whatever it is, we can kill it."

The rest of the meal is relatively quiet until we're all finished. I start collecting our plates, but both my brothers stop me.

"We'll wash up, Cals," Sam says. "That was great."

"Thanks, guys," I say. They wave me off.

I decide to start packing up some gear for tomorrow, make sure all the ammo is loaded and that we still have enough silver bullets. Half an hour later, I beat Dean to the shower and get ready for bed. I pop a couple Tylenol for my back and exit the bathroom just to plop down on the couch. When we were young, Sammy and I usually shared a bed and then we started trading nights on the couch. However, as he got taller, and I didn't (damn genetics) it became more and more painful to watch his giant frame squish into different positions, so I took up permanent residence on the couch, though Dean tried switching. I'm not gonna lie, it was kinda nice having my own bed when Sammy went away to school, but I much prefer having him back and returning to the couch. My back protests as I lay down, but I ignore it and start looking for a decent position to snuggle into. I can feel two sets of eyes on me.

"What," I grumble, finally getting comfortable. I open my eyes to see guilty faces.

"I didn't mean to kick you outta your bed, pipsqueak, especially after you just made us dinner," Sam says. "Maybe we could take turn-"

I cut him off, "gigantor, you and I both know these couches are not made for your entirely too massive form." I see Dean about to say something. "Nope, same goes for you, slightly-less-giant gigantor. I'm perfectly fine here." I punctuate my words with a yawn and shut my eyes before either brother can protest. I hear the floor squeak near me and know it's Dean about to do something. Without opening my eyes, I tell him, "if you try to pick me up, I will not hesitate to use my gun." The squeaking stops and I hear him grumble some choice words. Then I feel the heavy weight of a blanket and hear a whispered "night, Squirt," before drifting off.

 **SPN**

We pull up to the trail marker the next morning to see only Haley and the man I assume to be the guide she hired. As we hop out of the Impala, I hear her call the guy Roy when she explains that Ben is home sick. We approach them, Dean in front of me and Sam behind me with a duffel. Neither of my brothers look very much like hikers. At least I had the common sense to wear shorts and tennis shoes.

"You guys got room for three more?" Dean asks. Haley looks at us, slightly shocked.

"Wait, you want to come with us?"

The guy, Roy, looks annoyed. "Who are these guys?" he asks. Haley looks back at him before answering,

"apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue."

"You're rangers?" he inquires. Smooth as ever, Dean replies,

"that's right."

"Well, I'm a ranger-in-training, if you want to get technical about it" I inform him. I'm aware I look the youngest in comparison to my brothers. He simply smirks derisively. This dude is a dick; I can already tell. I notice Haley looking both Sam and Dean up and down.

"And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans? How come your intern is more prepared?" Haley asks. I swish my pony tail behind my shoulders while smiling evilly at my brothers. I tried to tell them.

"Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts. And she's day-labor," he says, hooking his thumb back at me. My smile falls. Roy obviously doesn't appreciate the humor, as he speaks,

"what, you think this is funny? It's dangerous back country out there. Her brother might be hurt."

"Believe me, I know how dangerous it can be. We just wanna help find Tommy, that's all," Dean explains. Roy growls slightly before starting up the trail, Haley on his heels, and Dean on hers. Sam and I share a look before taking up the rear.

 **SPN**

Turns out I enjoy hiking. I can't remember the last time I participated in a recreational physical activity that wasn't for the sole purpose of benefitting my hunting, and I can see what the craze is about. I zone out Roy's conversation with Dean and just focus on the greenery around me, at least until we come to a sudden halt because Dean about last his foot to a bear trap. Dumbass. I see Haley run after him, as we start moving again and they talk fervently for a couple minutes. Dean catches both Sam's and my eyes, indicating that we should walk on. I guess he's made the decision to let Haley in on our not so little secret. It's a good call. She can handle it, and she would have just figured it out on her own anyways. I hear them catching back up and feel a tug on my backpack. Dean pulls me to a stop with my backpack, and I turn, thinking he wants to chat, but he simply unzips the outer pocket and pulls out some peanut M&Ms he must've snuck in there.

"Hey!" I try to grab for them, but he simply holds them above his head and ruffles my hair before walking away. He looks to Haley behind us.

"What do you mean I didn't pack provisions?" He winks at the two of us.

"Fat-ass," I mumble. But he's already gone. I do hear a snort from Sam though. I swing my bag around and take out the trail mix I packed for myself and offer a zip-lock full of it to Sam. He accepts with a smile, and we hike on side by side.

We stop a few miles later, as Roy informs us that we've made it to Blackwater Ridge. It looks exactly like the rest of the forest we've hiked through; however, that's not what makes all three of us raise our eyebrows.

"What coordinate are we at?" Sam asks.

"35 minus 11," confirms Roy. Both boys come to stand by me.

"You hear that?" I pose. They both nod.

"Yeah, not even crickets," replies Sammy. This is not good, and I'm starting to think I may know what we're dealing with, and, if I'm right, it's double not good. Roy apparently doesn't find this odd and decide to take off, though we try to convince him otherwise. You can't fix stupid.

We hike on until Roy calls us over to what appears to be a massacred camp site.

"Oh my God," I hear Haley whisper. I agree with her sentiment. This place it an absolute wreck. The tent is shredded and splattered with an alarming amount of blood. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a grizzly attack. Haley starts screaming for her brother, running in random directions before Sam can shush her. "Something might still be out there," he explains. By "might," he means definitely. Dean waves me over to examine the scene while Sam calms Haley down. It seems the bodies were dragged away, but the tracks end abruptly.

"That's no skinwalker of black dog," he opens with. I nod in full agreement. I turn around to see Haley on the ground and decide to get in touch with my empathetic side. I plop down next to her, rubbing her back slightly. "Hey, he could still be alive," I try to comfort. She looks unconvinced. Suddenly we hear a "help!" from somewhere up the trail, and we all take off only to find nothing. I know what this thing is. With the urgency that Sam instructs us back to camp, I think he might know as well. Our bags are missing. Shocker.

"What the hell is going on?" Haley asks to no one in particular. None of us answer, as we're already moving slightly up the trail to form a small Winchester huddle at Sam's insistence.

"Guys, I think I know what we're dealing with," I whisper at them.

"Me too. Dean, lemme see dad's journal," Sam says while reaching for it. Dean hands it over, and Sam starts flipping pages until he finds the correct page. I glance down. Yup, Wendigo.

"This is what you were thinking, right?" He asks me. I nod. Dean takes a look and scoffs slightly.

"Oh, come one, Wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or, or northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far west."

"Think about, Dean, the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice." Lists Sam.

"Yeah, and its speed and pension for food storage," I contribute, widening my eyes in hopes they'll catch my drift about where Tommy might be. The understanding looks on both their faces makes me confident that they did. Dean removes a pistol from the inside of his jacket. "Well then this is useless," he says, waving it about in frustration. I guess I wasted my time inspecting ammo last night. Sigh.

"We gotta get these people to safety," Sam says before turning abruptly to walk back. I can tell he's growing frustrated with the lack of our father's presence. I can hear him addressing Roy and Haley as I too march back. "Alright, it's time to go. Things have gotten…more complicated."

"What?' Haley questions confusedly. Of course, big ole' Roy tries to comfort her and Sam, claiming he can handle it. Things only go downhill from there until Sam nearly spills the beans on the whole Wendigo situation. Dean shoves him aside, and I make my way in between the two, one hand on each chest.

"Stop. Stop it. Look. Tommy might still be alive, and I know for certain that Haley is not gonna leave without her brother. I know I wouldn't," I say, taking a minute to stare both of them down before see Haley nod in agreement with my words. Dean and Sam visibly relax, and I remove myself from in between them.

"Right," Dean starts, "it's getting late. We'll never beat this thing in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves. Finally, back on track.

An hour later, we're all sitting restlessly around a fire. I imagine, under different circumstance, this would be quite cozy. Too bad we're being hunted. Dean is drawing Anasazi symbols for protection while Roy acts like a douche skeptic. When he's done, I see Dean wink at me before dragging Sam off. Good. They need to have a brother-to-brother conversation about their issue. While I recognize this fact, I can't help the small amount of jealousy that creeps up. Dean and I are the ones who've spent the last four years as hunting partners, but only after a week, he's already having one-on-ones with Sammy. My envy is ridiculous, but it's there none the less. I'm comforted in the fact that my brothers will come to me when they want to talk. That I'm sure of.

Just as they're headed back my way, we here a distinct cry for help. I automatically flip my switchblade, not that it's be helpful in this situation.

"He's just trying to draw us out. Stay cool and stay put," Dean warns while coming to stand next to me. He places a hand on my shoulder and raises a questioning brow at my blade.

"Habit," I whisper back.

"I know," he smirks. I'm glad he still remembers we're partners. I catch a blur in the near-by shrubs.

"It's here," Sam states from across the fire. The sound of a gunshot sends a flush of adrenaline through my body. Roy is a goddamn buffoon.

"I hit it!" he cries before running off in to the woods, supporting my buffoon theory.

"Roy, no!" Dean shouts. He whips around, to tell Haley not to move and gives me a look indicating for me to stay as well. Someone has to watch Haley. Sam and Dean sprint off into the woods, only to return five minutes later, Royless. They explain how they lost him, and Haley seems terrified, though she's handling all this better than most. We decide to settle in for the evening. Sam leans up against a large Oak, claiming the first watch shift. Haley makes a rough little leaf bed and lies down, facing away from us, while Dean also picks a tree to rest on. My back is so fucked, and I'm regretting my choice of shorts, as the temperature has dropped considerably. Sam seems broody, so I make my way to Dean, plopping down to rest on his shoulder. He doesn't seem to mind, and simply wraps an arm around me. "Sleep tight, De," I whisper. "Don't let the wendigo bite." He emits a soft snort before hitting me lightly on the back of the head. "Night, squirt," he says. Even though we're in the middle of the woods and being hunted by a weird old cannibal, it doesn't take me long to nod off.

I wake up in a ball with my head on the ground and one of my brother's jackets draped over me. I'm instantly annoyed, as I was never woken for a watch shift. I look around to see Dean speaking with Haley by the shredded tent. I also notice Sam lumbering towards me.

"Mornin, Cals," he greets, offering a hand up. I take it and dust the forest floor from myself when vertical.

"Gigantor," I mutter. "Don't remember getting a watch shift last night," I glare up at him while shoving his jacket towards him. He just chuckles, picking a couple twigs and leaves from my incredibly messy hair. Good thing it's brown and blends in with the dirt.

"Tried to wake you, but you weren't having it," he says. I highly doubt that, but I drop it when I catch the circles under his eyes. He's still not sleeping, and I don't wanna be too difficult with him.

"Right," I reply with a roll of my eyes. We make our way over to Dean and Haley. Apparently, Dean has been explaining more about our line of work, as Sam jumps straight into a history of Wendigos. I try to hold back a cringe when he explains to her how her brother could still possibly be alive. Dean rounds out the conversation with how to kill it, holding up his lighter and a bottle of lighter fluid. "We gotta torch the sucker."

With that, we start to make our way through the woods. Dean leads with a Molotov cocktail at the ready. We're following what appears to be a trail left by the Wendigo, but it's clarity is making me nervous. Sam voices that concern right before we hear growling followed by a rustling of trees to our left. Both Haley and I notice when blood begins to drip onto her vest. I tackle her just before Roy's corpse can crush her and feel frantic hands trying to place me on my feet. More growling emanates around us. Shit.

"Run, run, run! Go, go!" Shouts Dean, pushing Haley and me on. She trips, and I stop to help her up just as Dean comes barreling behind us along with the Wendigo. I immediately place myself in front of Haley, as Dean places himself in front of me. However, the Wendigo quickly sweeps him to the side, and I'm left with only the option of distraction. I whip out my switch blade and begin stabbing. "Go, Haley! Find Sam!" I shout. A sharp pain on the side of my head sends me to the ground, and the last thing I see is Haley making a run for it.

 **SPN**

I wake to a harsh light behind my eyelids and a jackhammer in my head.

"Callie. Cals? You awake, pipsqueak?"

"Sammy?" I mumble, opening my eyes all the way to see him standing in front of me. Wait, how am I vertical? I see the wrist binds only slightly before I feel the strain on my shoulders.

"Yeah, I got ya," Sam says while wrapping one arm around my waist and using the other to saw away at the rope.

"Dean?" I question, my voice gruff.

"I'm good, Squirt," I hear him, voice also gruff, to my right and turn my head to see him strung up as well. There's another boy beside him that I work out to be Tommy based on Haley's cries.

"Sammy, get him first," I demand weakly. God, what did that monster hit me with? I feel like my body is trying to imitate a noodle.

"Ha. Good one," answers Sam, as he finishes sawing the rope. I don't expect the drop, but he catches me, my arms flopping onto his back before he lowers me down and props me against a wall. He quickly does the same for Dean who ends up leaning next to me. I turn to inspect him, and it seems he does the same to me. I reach to wipe some blood from his face before realizing my hands are still tied. Sam crouches down to free them.

"Thanks," I grimace up at him. I immediately go for Dean's face again, using my sleeve to stanch the blood flow on one of his cuts. He waves my hand away.

"I'm fine, Cals," he admonishes. "We gotta get them out of here," he says, indicating to Haley and her brother. He's right. We both use the wall to get to our feet, releasing groans as our bodies protest. Sam goes to help Tommy. I realize my hair has fallen down and go to retie it when I hear Dean suck in a breath.

"What's wrong?" I ask, looking him over. He looks dirty and a little beat up but nothing life threatening.

"Your head, squirt." I feel his fingertips gently probing my temple and gasp when he touches a tender spot. His fingers come away bloody. That must be where the Wendigo got me. "Do you feel dizzy, nauseous, ears ringing?" he starts firing at me. I didn't really notice except for an awful headache. I've had worse; we just need to focus on getting out of this monster's lair.

"De, I'm good. Ready to kick some Wendigo ass," I reassure him. He drops his hand reluctantly, as I begin to move towards Sam. Dean follows.

"That looks nasty," say Sam, pointing at my forehead when I get near him.

"Always the charmer, Sammy," I fire back. "I see the missing bags are no longer missing," I say, pointing to the pile of bags in the corner. Dean immediately begins to dig through them while Haley assures Tommy that we'll get him home. Poor kid looks beat to hell.

"Check it out," Dean says with a grin.

"Flare guns. Those'll work," Sam smiles. I love lucky breaks.

We start to move slowly down the tunnels we're in. I assume it's an abandoned gold mine from what I know about the area. We hear all-too-familiar growling.

"We'll never outrun it," cries Haley. She's not wrong. I see Dean look between me and Sam before speaking,

"you guys thinking what I'm thinking?" Hell yeah, I do, and before my doofus of an older brother can get himself killed like he nearly did the last time we implemented this plan, I snatch a flare gun from his hands and start running in the direction of the growls.

"Callie!" both my brothers yell.

"Get you stupid ass back here, NOW!" That was Dean. He's gonna kill me. At least, if the Wendigo doesn't first.

"Just get them outta here!" I throw over my shoulder before skidding around a corner and beginning my attempt at distracting this sonuvabitch.

"Hey, you want some white meat, ya bastard! Come and get it!" I shout. God, maybe I'm the doofus. I keep running but don't see the thing until it blurs past me, obviously more interested in the larger food supply down the hall. I make a hasty U-turn and follow it back, sprinting like a madwoman. I hear Haley's scream and the tell-tale sound of a gun going off. The roars indicate the shooter missed. I come around the bend to see the Wendigo stalking up to my brothers standing in front of the other pair of siblings.

"Hey!" I scream. The thing turns, and I fire the round into its stomach, sending the Wendigo up in flames. "Not bad, right?" I smirk. My brothers glare at me, and I can tell I'm in deep doo doo. But before I can speak again, I'm being crushed in a hug.

"You do that again and I will kill you myself," murmurs Dean.

"Same here," Sam says while still supporting Tommy. I simply nod, though nothing in me feels apologetic for my actions. I killed the monster and saved my brothers. That's a win in my book. We all start the slow trek back through the forest.

 **SPN**

All three of us are sitting on the hood of the Impala watching the medics load up Tommy. Well, I'm sitting on the hood. The boys are only leaning on it, Sam on the left and Dean on the right. I managed to snag an ice pack from one of the EMTs and am holding it to my head at Sam's insistence. Haley is walking towards us, though she only has eyes for Dean who she is currently trying to wave over to her. He goes, leaving Sammy and I to relax.

"Haley told me what you did before you got taken, Cals. Stabbing a Wendigo, really? And then the whole distraction gamble? What were you thinking, Callie?" Sam asks, obviously disapproving of my actions.

"That's the job, Sammy. Not to make you feel guilty or anything, but you were gone a LONG time, and I got good at this. It may seem reckless to you, but it saved Haley's life and yours and Dean's lives. You guys are all I got, so I'll gladly risk my life. Please don't treat me like an incapable baby sister who doesn't know what she's doing," I say, looking him right in the eye. Sam releases a sigh, his slight anger dissipating.

"God, you're so much like Dean. Look, Cals, I know you're good at this. I mean, from what I've seen, you may be better than any of us, but…just try to be careful you know? You and Dean are all I have too, and I can't stand the idea of losing you. I guess it just scares me to see how far you've come. I'm proud of you too though. What you did, even though it was crazy bordering on stupid, was really brave…I love you, pisqueak," he says, wrapping his arm around me in a side hug. I squeeze back, hard, glad that the tension has diffused.

"Geez, thirty little minutes and I become the baby of the family," I say, mock offended. We both chuckle. "Love you too, gigantor."

We finish our conversation right before Dean comes back to lean on the Impala again. He's got that just-kissed smirk on his face, and I roll my eyes. We all wave, as Haley hops in the ambulance with Tommy and heads out.

"Man, I hate camping," sates Dean. Sam smirks before replying,

"me too." I stick my head between the two of them.

"Me three," I contribute with a grin. Dean quickly palms my face, pushing me back.

"Oh no, you don't get to be part of the family moment after the crazy shit you pulled today, squirt," he says. I huff and pout before hopping off the hood to follow them into the car. Dean just throws me a smirk. "You guys know we're gonna find dad, right?" he assures.

"Yeah, I know," replies Sam. "But in the meantime? I'm driving."

Dean sighs before tossing him the keys. "Better you than Miss Concussed over there." I roll my eyes at him which only makes my head hurt. Maybe he has a point. We all get comfortable before driving off.


	5. Chapter 5

I'm not sure if it's common to be in an almost plane crash since I'd never been on a plane before, but I'm officially put off flying. Which sucks extra hard considering the case before this one put me off swimming (at least in lakes). However, the whole stomach-in-my-throat-plane-falling panic was totally worth seeing Dean's minor freak out. It's always interesting for me to learn something new about him because we've spent so much time together. I just assume I know everything.

The demon's back in hell and we're all in one piece for the most part. Turns out seat belts really do have a purpose, as when the plane we were on dropped, I was sent crashing into a wall that happened to be where a fire extinguisher was housed. I hit right on the site of my semi-old injury where the scar is still pretty fresh. It hurt like a bitch, and the pain doesn't seem to be settling down. I could really go for an ice pack.

We're currently standing in Jerry's office (he's the guy who called us in on this crazy traveling demon's ass) relaying the good news.

"Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed," Jerry addresses us. He shakes all our hands before continuing, "your dad's gonna be real proud." All three of us force a smile. It's been weeks, and we still haven't heard a peep from our father.

"We'll see you around, Jerry," says Sam, as we begin to head out. Dean appears to change his mind, turning around quickly which causes me to walk right into him. It doesn't seem to bother him.

"Jerry, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway? I've only had it for like six months," Dean asks the man. I pause. I hadn't even of thought of that. I look to Jerry, my interest peaked.

"Your dad gave it to me," he answers.

What. The. Hell.

"What?" both Sam and I exclaim at the same time.

"I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call. Thanks again, guys," he explains, walking out. None of us speak as we head back to the Impala, lost in our thoughts. We stand next to our respective doors for a minute before Sammy speaks up.

"This doesn't make any sense, guys. I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service."

"Same here," I say distractedly, still trying to figure out what could possibly be going on with our dad. Dean whips out his phone and dials. He puts in on speaker and holds it out so we can hear: "This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean and daughter, Callie. 785-555-0179. They can help." What. The. Fuck. Sam looks like smoke is about to come out of his ears before slamming into his seat. Dean and I share a look over Baby's roof; we're both slightly dumbstruck. Since when does dad pimp us out for jobs?

 **SPN**

It's a nice night to drive. The sky is as clear as the road in front of me, and I can see clusters of stars above the endless fields. I took over driving a little after midnight, and it's now 4am. It took nearly an hour to convince Dean that his drooping eyelids were gonna kill us all, and that is not the way badass hunters should go out. Sammy was finally getting some rest, so we both decided to just keep driving. I hear the timer on Dean's watch go off in the back seat and then rustling as he wakes up. He yawns before sticking his head up front to look at me. Sometimes, it's like looking into a mirror our eyes are so similar.

"Alright, squirt, get some rest. I'm taking the helm," he says while pointing his finger to a pulloff up ahead.

"Dean, four hours really isn't enough sleep. I'm not tired, why don't you-" I'm interrupted by a snort.

"Runt, you've been up longer than any of us. Don't make me recycle your own argument. Now, gimme my Baby," he insists. I pull off.

"Fine," I huff. It's true though, I'm really not tired. The steady throbbing in my lower back has kept me up all night. I just can't seem to find a comfortable position to stop the fiery pulses, and it's really starting to get on my nerves. I don't enjoy the idea of possessing a weakness, especially a physical one that could impact my hunting. I really don't want to bug my brothers about this, but I may have to spill the beans soon. We have a responsibility to watch each other's backs, and if I'm down on the job, they have a right to know.

I put the car in park and step out, discreetly hiding a grimace as I stretch. Dean follows, making sure I'm in the back seat before he hops in the front. He lets out a grunt when his knee caps almost hit his face.

"God, squirt, how short are those legs of yours," he quips before reaching down to adjust the seat for his height. When the bench moves, Sam releases a moan but doesn't wake up. I send Dean a glare in the rearview mirror.

"At least they're straight," I retort with a small smirk. Now it's his turn to glare. I rummage around to find my laptop and fire it up.

"Callie, what are you doing? Get some rest. That thing'll melt your brain if you look at it right now," Dean whispers.

"Sorry, bro, no can do. I told you I'm not tired. I'm just gonna play some solitaire," I whisper right back. He can tell I mean business and just huffs, steering the car off the curb and heading down the road. A little white lie never hurt no one.

I look at the screen, almost giddy, as this is the second-to-last assignment I need to finish before my exams, and then I'm officially graduated. Over the years, I've done my exams or other more-involved projects during break days or research-heavy days. I've also done a lot of work during laundry days, as it takes several cycles through both the washer and dryer to get everyone's clothes clean. Hopefully there will be a couple lag days in the upcoming weeks, though it will be more difficult to hide what I'm doing from two brothers instead of one. While I know Sam would support me more than one hundred percent, I've set my mind on this being my own little secret. I discreetly pop a few Tylenol before hunkering down to work.

 _I'm back in Sam's apartment. He's lying on his bed and doesn't seem to see Jessica's body on the ceiling. Her blood drips on his forehead, and his eyes open in surprise._

 _"Why, Sam? Why, Sam?" her corpse questions._

 _"No!" screams Sam. Suddenly, flames explode around her, licking up her body. The heat is intense._

 _"Why, Sam? Why, Sam?"_

I jerk awake just as Sam does, Dean shaking his shoulder. Strange. There's a sheen of sweat covering my body, and I realize I somehow ended up asleep on my side. I throw off the blanket Dean must have covered me with and find my laptop is tucked into my bag. I feel like I have a hummingbird where my heart should be. Sam looks as shaken as I feel, shooting his eyes around to figure out where he is. We're parked in front of a building.

"I take it I was having a nightmare?" Sam asks Dean. Neither have noticed I'm awake yet.

"Yeah, another one."

"Hey, at least I got some sleep," grimaces Sam. I don't think I've seen him sleep more than a few hours at a time because he's been bombarded by these nightmares. This is the first I've had in a while, but it brings back the guilty feelings from Jessica's death. It only I'd have known it was a vision.

Dean presses his lips into a line, giving our brother a look.

"You know sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this," he insists.

"Are we here?" Sam changes the subject, issuing a glare from Dean. He drops it for now.

"Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio," Dean answers, tossing a newspaper on Sam's lap. He then twists in his seat, most likely planning to wake me up. His gaze meets mine.

"Mornin', runt. Guess it's a good thing we switched off, huh?" he winks at me before turning back around. That reminds me. I grunt as I realize the pain in back has not dissipated, but I can tell it hasn't exactly increased either. I'll call it a win. Sam turns slightly, raising the newspaper in greeting. I quickly pop my head over his shoulder so I can see the article Dean must have found. It's an obituary about a man named Steven Shoemaker who passed away unexpectedly. I can't immediately tell what's out of the ordinary other than the suddenness of the man's death, but I trust Dean's instincts.

"So, what do you think really happened to this guy?" Sam asks before I get a chance.

"That's what we're gonna find out," is Dean's vague answer. "Let's go." All three of us open our respective doors and unfold from the car. A sharp pain rockets up my spine, and I grip the door's frame for a moment until the stars dissipate from my field of vision.

"You alright?" Sam questions. I quickly nod my head.

"Yeah, just a head rush," I reply. He accepts the answer and turns to follow Dean. I release the door frame, having recovered slightly, and straighten my rumpled clothes. I still don't feel quite cooled down from having woken up all sweaty, so I unbutton my green flannel, letting it hang over my black tank top before trailing after my brothers into the…hospital? Oh, Dean must want to check out the body first.

We find the morgue easily enough and approach the tech seated at the desk.

"Can I help you?" he asks, sounding preoccupied and glancing between us and his computer screen. I bet he's playing a game. Or watching porn. I smirk at my thought. Dean stumbles through some sort of answer about us being med students here to report on the Shoemaker corpse. Apparently, the main doctor is out to lunch, and the tech won't let us in.

"Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out-"

"Uh, look, man…no," the tech rudely interrupts Dean who turns around looking ready to murder the dude. Before this can go any worse or my brothers decide to waste my hard-earned cash on an unnecessary bribe, I step out from behind gigantor and approach the guy. He eyes me appreciatively, and I plaster on a flirty smile. Thank the lord I haven't gotten around to laundry and had to wear my one fnacy bra. I lean against the counter, feeling it push my cleavage up enough to give him a good view.

"Hey, sorry about him. Imagine having to be his partner," I whisper loudly, hooking my thumb back at Dean. I can feel his gaze like a laser on the back of my head. "But he's right, this paper is a massive portion of our grade. I would be _so_ appreciative if you could help us out," I murmur, getting closer and closer as I speak. I wink at him. He wriggles in his seat and grins back at me.

"Think I could get your number?" he asks.

"I'll see what I can do." I'm so close to him now that I brush my nose against his ear. His breath hitches before he gets out of his chair, not even paying attention to my brothers.

"Follow me," he says. His wink makes me wanna gag, but I keep the seductive smirk on my face. I glance back to make sure Sam and Dean are following and am met with two stony faces, their eyes focused on the tech's back. Whoops, I've put an innocent life in danger. Before we can address the situation, we're in the main lab and tech dude is opening a section of the body fridge.

"So, the newspaper said his daughter found him with his eyes bleeding," I take the lead while the body is pulled out.

"More than that. They practically liquefied," explains tech dude. With the body in sight, I can see what he's talking about. The injuries are definitely not natural, and I internally pat myself on the back for taking those anatomy courses. I can tell my brothers are back in work mode when Dean starts questioning.

"Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?" he asks.

"Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone," is the techie's response. I lean in to get a closer look at the empty eye sockets. I speak without thinking.

"The occipital vessels seem to be completely ruptured, and I can see blood buildup back into to the skull cavity, indicating intense cerebral bleeding. I know massive strokes or aneurysms can cause capillaries to burst, but I've never heard of anything this extensive. What's the official cause of death?" I ask, glancing up. I'm met with three pairs of widened gazes. Score one for anatomy class.

Morgue dude is the first to recover.

"Uh, yeah. Doc's not sure, but he's guessing what you just said. You a med student or something?"

"Nope," I answer quickly. "I just do my research." I see Sam give me a suspicious glance. Dean clears his throat.

"Riiight. Think we could take a peek at that police report for, uh…our paper?" Nice one, big brother. The lab tech hesitates, but I lay a hand on his bicep and give him the best puppy-dog eyes I can muster. He licks his lips and releases a slight "mmhmm," no longer focused on Dean's request.

"Great," I grin up at him before he stumbles out to get the report. My brothers' glares are now trained on me.

 **SPN**

"Do not, I repeat, do not flirt with anyone in this house," Dean commands, his gaze drilling into my own. We're sitting in the Impala, parked outside the Shoemaker house about to attend the wake, as Sam suggested that we should talk to the daughter. Dean's hypocrisy is adorable.

"Come on, Deano, at least my flirtations almost always lead to something more useful than a one night stand. We didn't even have to waste bribery money on that guy. And, by the way, I don't plan on seducing a ten-year-old," I smirk at him. Both brothers grimace.

"Please don't use the word seduce," says Sammy. Dean suddenly looks like he's solved a puzzle.

"What do you mean almost?" he asks, looking horrified. I release a small laugh.

"I did learn from the best, big brother. I've got your eyes, you know." Sam releases a surprised guffaw while Dean looks like he's considering a chastity belt. Sometimes I wonder if he knows I'm 22. Sam and I exit the car, still laughing, and he throws an arm around my shoulders. We walk hip-to-hip…well, hip to mid-stomach up the sidewalk, and I'm reminded of a time before all this extra crazy hit us, a time when Sammy and I were still kids.

 _"Thing one! Thing two! Let's get a move on. Dad's waitin' in the car!" Dean called. Sam and I were conspiring in the bathroom, trying to get a game-plan together for the prank war we were currently in the middle of with Dean. We both giggled like the ten-year-olds we were as Sam added the final touches with a red crayon we'd found on the ground._

 _"Think it'll work?" he whispered to me, his eyes sparking with hope and mischief. We were huddled close together with our backs pressed against the bath tub and our heads practically touching. I gave him a toothy grin._

 _"Even if it doesn't, it'll be fun to try," I whisper back. Up to this point, we had never beaten Dean at a prank war, and Sam seemed ready to break that trend. We high five before scurrying out of the bathroom at the sound of Dean's shouts. Sammy quickly folded the map and shoved it into the back pocket of his too-short jeans. He was beginning to look a lot like a bean pole to me._

 _"And just what were you two doing in there?" Dean raised an eyebrow, as we scurried out the door. Sammy and I just eyed each other and giggled before hopping into the backseat._

The waving of a hand in front of my face pulls me from the memory.

"Yo, Cals. Head in the game," Dean says before knocking on the door we've approached. All three of us stand a little taller when the door begins to open. Turns out it isn't necessary though, as the somber-looking woman who opens the door barely spares us a glance before waving us in and returning to whichever room she'd emerged from. The house is filled with people dressed in dark mourning colors, causing all three of us in our flannel to stand out like sore thumbs. Fortunately, I lost most of my ability to be embarrassed a while back, and I know for certain that Dean was born loving attention, good or bad. It's Sammy who has the sense to feel embarrassed as we delve into the wake to see what we can turn up.

 **SPN**

"Bloody fuckin' Mary? Are you _serious_?" I whisper yell at my brothers while we inspect the bathroom where Mr. Shoemaker was supposedly whacked by some crazy ass lady ghost. I hear a poorly muffled chuckle from Sam with his head stuck in the Shoemaker's medicine cabinet behind the mirror. Dean cracks a smile while investigating the remnants of a blood pool on the floor. "I almost forgot about the bloody Mary incident. You were super spooked," he teases. I roll my eyes.

"Well, apparently it was for good reason," I snap back. I cross my arms defensively and try not to think about my first and last sleep over in second grade. Sam seems to have finished his examination of the mirror and turns to face me and Dean, who's back on his feet wiping a hand on his jeans. "Did dad ever find evidence she was a real thing?" Sam asks.

"Not that I know of. It was always just a story to scare kids," he throws a smirk in my direction, "but, here, it seems to actually be happening," he finishes. I decide to throw in my two cents.

"But according to the legend, it's the person who says b-" I give the mirror a suspicious glance, to which both my brothers grin, before continuing. "The person who says you know what gets it. But here-"

"Shoemaker gets it instead," Dean finishes for me. I nod along with Sam. "I've never heard of anything like that before, but the guy did get his peepers scratched out right in front of the mirror, so that part of the legend stands."

"It's worth checking into," replies Sam. I release a groan indicating I know they're right.

"Think you can handle it without having a panic attack, runt?" Dean laughs at me. I simply glare at him before pivoting on my heel and exiting the bathroom. I run right into one of Donnna's more annoying friends. All three of us freeze.

"What're you doing up here?" she questions.

"We—we, had to use the bathroom," Dean stammers out. I face palm myself in my mind. She lets out a derisive snort before continuing.

"All together? Who are you?" If she wasn't getting in the way of our job, I might appreciate her gumption.

"Like we said, we're work friends of Donna's father," tries Sam. Charlie looks unconvinced.

"He worked by himself. And what were all those weird questions downstairs? Tell me what's up, or I'll start screaming." Her voice is hard, as she makes eye contact with each of us. I decide to take the lead. First, I take a small step towards her and raise myself up so I'm just looking down at her; I don't want her to feel she has the upper hand. I notice her shrink away just slightly. Good.

"We think something, non-stroke-like happened to Donna's dad," I answer. I see her eyes eiden in surprise.

"Like what?"

"We're not sure yet, but we are sure we don't want it happening to anyone else. So if you're gonna scream, go right ahead," I challenge. She looks torn.

"Are you guys cops?"

I look back at Sam and Dean who both shrug. "Something like that," I reply. I can tell she's struggling with what to do, and I can admire the protectiveness she has for her friend. I back off slightly.

"Look, Charlie," I say, reading her nametag (who has nametags at a wake?), "lemme give you my number. If you or your friends notice anything strange, just give us a call." I pull a piece of paper from my pocket and quickly snatch Sam's pen from his pocket before scribbling out my number. Charlie hesitates slightly before taking the paper and walking back down the stairs, only glancing back once.

 **SPN**

After a decidedly horrid trip to the library in which we discovered this town has yet to make their move into the glorious century of computers, we're back at the motel, Dean and I _still_ trying to dig something up while we let Sam nap. Though it seems to be in vain, as he snaps awake with a gasp. The tiredness I see in his eyes pains me, as I can easily empathize with his lack of good sleep.

"Why'd you let me fall asleep?" he asks pointedly. Dean huffs.

"Because we're awesome siblings," he says gesturing between us. "Dream about anything good?"

"Yeah, lollipops and candy canes," Sam chuckles darkly. I shoot him a small smile while he stands and pulls out the third chair next to me, plopping down. "Find anything?" he asks, glancing between the both of us. I simply duck my head, roughly combing my fingers through my hair and releasing a groan while Dean answers, "Besides a whole new level of frustration? No. We've looked through, literally, every single scrap of every single mirror-related incident on record, and nothing. Even squirt with her creepy tech skills could only find some dude smushed by one," he says, gesturing towards me with a wave.

"His name was Dave," I mumble helpfully, head still bent over. I hear Sam sigh and lean back.

"Maybe it just ain't Mary," says Dean right before the shrill ringing of a phone begins emanating from Sam's pocket. He brings it to his ear with a swift 'hello.' I can tell something's up when his eyebrows pull together in a frown. He mouths 'Charlie' at Dean and I. We're out the door before he ends the call.

 **SPN**

So Charlie's friend Jill is dead now. And, while I understand having respect for the dead, I can't help but kinda hate her because, had she not have died, I would not currently be lying in a bush with my brother trying not to laugh. We had made the decision to check out Jill's room with Charlie after she relayed Jill's untimely demise to us, but we couldn't use the front door with her mom in the house. So the girl's bedroom window was our only point of entry which woulda been great had it not been on the second floor and had Sam not been distracted enough by his and Dean's bickering to drop me while trying to give me a boost up. And now here I am laying in a bush with Sam suppressing his laughter and Dean trying his damnedest to do the same while helping me up and picking a twig out of my ponytail. I simply huff and turn, starting to climb up myself along the trellis. "Aw, come on pipsqueak, we promise not to drop you this time," Sam whisper yells at me. I look down to glare at him and throw him the bird before tapping lightly on the window, indicating to Charlie to open up. She helps me over the sill, and we wait for dumb and dumber to ascend.

A duffel full of gear is tossed through the window before either of my brothers. I immediately grab it and get to work starting up a camera, Sam right behind me. Dean quickly grabs the night vision goggles and reverts back to his toddler years until receiving a double-dose bitch face from Sammy and me. We all start sweeping the room and attached bathroom while Sam questions the motive of this crazy bitch ghost. After a couple minutes of perusing Jill's desk, I hear Sam call, "Hey, Cals, there's a backlight in that duffel, right?"

"Yup," I respond, tossing it to him before he can ask. He catches it swiftly with one hand, and carries in the mirror from the bathroom wall with the other, laying it on the bed. He switched the light on and runs it down the back. "Who the fuck is Gary Bryman?" I ask. I receive shrugs all around and release an annoyed groan. "To the library we go," I state.

 **SPN**

So, turns out Bloody Mary is just some psycho homicide victim on a real twisted vigilante justice binge. Gary was some poor kid killed by Jill in a hit and run incident, and Donna's mom was offed by Donna's dad, which is why their eyeballs got slushied. The real kicker is that Mary's body was actually cremated, so we're theorizing her soul is possessing the mirror she died in front of. She had tried to use her own blood to name her killer. I'd consider her a badass if not for the whole ghost murderer thing.

Currently, Charlie is crying into my shoulder on a bed in our hotel. She called from school earlier in a panic about having cursed herself, so my brothers are in the process of removing every reflective object from her field of vision. I've never been very good as soothing anyone but my family, but I give it a shot while stroking Charlie's hair.

"It's gonna be okay," I try to assure her, "we tracked the mirror to an antiques store in Toledo, and we're gonna end this thing before it can get you." I grab both sides of her face, "you are not going to die." I punctuate each word, and I mean them. I will not let this girl die just because her boyfriend happened to kill himself. She curls into a ball as I stand up to follow my brothers outside. "We'll be back soon, Charlie. You'll be fine," I say with my hand rested on her back. She merely whimpers and curls herself up tighter. I sigh and head for the Impala.

 **SPN**

I've made a decision I'm sure my brothers would hate were I to voice it, but I'm determined nonetheless. From what we've learned about Mary, she has difficulty differentiating between shades of grey in terms of murder, at least if Charlie's boyfriend is any indication. What this means is that I am specifically qualified for the job of calling Mary from her mirror. Jess may not have died by my own hand, but ever since the fire I've been haunted by the visions I'd been having weeks beforehand. It seems so obvious to me now what they meant, what they were indicating, and I didn't do a thing. I brushed them off as nightmares, and Jess was murdered because of it. I owe this to my brothers for my mistake, but especially Sam. I especially owe Sammy.

I'm jarred from my thoughts by the voices of my brothers who seem to be discussing the exact same predicament that I've recently solved in my thoughts.

"Well who's gonna summon her?" Dean asks. I guess that's my que; however, before I can speak up, Sam jumps in.

"I will. She'll come after me." _What?_ I feel the car jerk off the road onto the curb and can imagine the pulsing vein in Dean's forehead even though he's facing the other way.

"You know what, that's it," Dean starts angrily, "this is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow?" Oh, Sammy, if only you knew. I try once again to interject, but Dean seems to be on a role. "This has got to stop, man. I mean the nightmares and the stress – it's gonna kill you. Listen to me – it was not your fault.."

"He's right, Sammy," I get in quickly while reaching forward to put a hand on his shoulder. "I-"

"If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her," Dean cuts me off. "Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place," he finishes. Jesus, this family has guilt issues.

"I don't blame you. Either of you." Sam states, looking somewhat forlorn but rubbing a thumb across my hand.

"Well you shouldn't blame yourself because there's nothing you could've done," Dean repeats.

"I could have warned her," Sam replies, pained. My head snaps to attention, and my eyes widen at his statement, but I'm too shocked to speak. No. _I_ could have warned her. What is Sammy thinking?

"About what!" Dean exclaims. "You didn't know what was gonna happen. Besides, this isn't a secret; it won't work with Mary." I see a change in Sam's face in the side mirror. It's the same face he was making before he told me about his plans to finally leave for college. He looks guilty.

"You don't know everything," he grumbles.

"What do you mean?" asks Dean.

"Yeah, what are you talking about, Sammy?" I probe gently, wanting to know what's got him feeling guilt only I should be justified in feeling.

"Well, it wouldn't be a secret if I told you guys, now would it?" he bites out. I retract my hand and stifle a response.

"No. I don't like it. Not happening," is Dean's unsurprising response, and I feel inclined to agree.

"Sam, we can't let you do that."

"Dean, Cals, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it, and who knows how many more will follow? We're doing this. You have to let me do this," Sam almost pleads. Looks like I'll be summoning Mary with Sammy. I will not let him fight this thing alone.

 **SPN**

I've just finished picking the lock on the store's back entrance when the door swing open to reveal a room teeming with mirrors of various sizes. Sam and I let out a simultaneous groan as I stand to enter.

"Well…that's just great," quips Dean, as he moves in front of me. "Let's start looking." We each grab a flashlight and split up, though I can feel my brothers' eyes glance at me several times as we move further in. We all eventually come to what looks like the oldest mirror in the place, and it matches the article clipping's picture we found reporting Mary's death.

"You sure about this?," Dean asks our brother. Sam nods, neither brother looking at me, which is good for this next part. As Sam begins chanting 'Bloody Mary,' I say it under my breath with him. Suddenly, we see headlights in front of the store.

"Fuck," Dean curses. He looks to me. "Watch him, Cals and smash anything that moves. I'll go take care of this." I nod my head, and he walks away hesitantly. I don't see Mary yet, but I see Sam stiffen.

"See her yet, Sammy?" Instead of answering, he smashes a mirror to his right with a crow bar.

"Stay back, Cals," he says hurriedly. Yeah, right. It's then that I see the gnarly face of Mary in a mirror to my left. I quickly slam my own crow bar into it, causing Sam to whip around in my direction.

"You can see her?" He asks, confused for a moment before realization morphs his features into a frown.

"What did you do, Callie?" I merely smirk.

"Wasn't gonna let you go it alone, gigantor," I reply. Before he can get extra mad, I see Mary in a mirror behind him and make to smash it. I hear him doing the same. Suddenly, I can see her in more mirrors than I can smash and I feel a pounding in my brain. "Aghhh," I groan. Over an incessant whispering, I hear a distressed Sammy,

"Cals!"

"Agh, come on, Sammy…we've got to get her…in the big one," I manage through gritted teeth. The pounding is now like a jackhammer, and it's a monumental effort to turn my head towards the intended target. I can see Sammy also gripping his head, and our knees buckle at practically the same time. I feel a trickle down my face and a booming voice, "It's your fault! Both of you! You killed Jessica. You never spoke the truth about your nightmares. You had them for weeks before she died, didn't you! You let her die!" Mary screams into our minds. I can no longer stay up. I disconnectedly hear the thud of my body as it hits the floor followed by a second that I assume to be Sammy. I see a flash and hear the shattering of glass before the pain begins to let up. Dean.

"Sammy! Callie!" I feel a brush on my forehead and unclench my eyelids to see Dean kneeling over Sammy and me. "God, are you guys okay?" he looks slightly panicked, as he wipes blood from under my eye. I start to regain control of my body and go to sit up.

"Ugh, yeah." I hear Sam reply. I just raise a pathetic thumbs-up. Dean looks slightly conflicted as to who to help up first.

"Grab Sammy, Dean, I'm good," I say, forcing my body up. Dean makes sure I'm steady before moving to Sam's aid. I follow slowly behind them as we start towards the entrance until Sam and Dean fall to their knees with a moan and I feel a white-hot pressure shoot across my brain, forcing me down as well. I see through squinted eyes the ghost of Mary crawling over the remnants of her mirror towards us, and the closer she gets, the more intense the pain is. I begin to see stars as her body slinks towards us. All I can think about through the pain is not letting her reach my brothers. In a last-ditch effort, I grab a reflective fragment and shove in front of her face. She starts convulsing immediately after catching her own reflection and melts into a puddle of blood. The relief is immediate, and I feel my body slump forward, unconcerned about the sharp fragments beneath me. As my senses return, I can hear my brothers calling for me and the crunching of glass as someone approaches. I recognize the boots in front of my face and the hand on my back.

"Hey, squirt, nicely done," Dean compliments gently while helping me into a sitting position. I release a small groan.

"Sammy?" I ask, looking up at him. He smirks and nods his head.

"He's good."

"You mad?" I try to sound weak, which is not a challenge. I get a snort in return.

"Oh yeah, but considering you just saved our asses, I'll wait to give you the lecture until you're patched up."

"How generous, De." I smile up at him.

"Pipsqueak, you good?" I hear Sam call from his resting position in the entry way.

"Better than ever, gigantor," I rasp back.

"All right, let's get you up," says Dean, already gently snaking my arm around his neck. He rises slowly, bending slightly to accommodate my height, and wraps his other arm around my waist. I'm now beginning to feel all the little glass impalements littered across my arms and side. Fuck that Mary chick. Dean basically carries me over to the spot next to Sammy, my feet only touching the floor a couple times. He plops me down next to gigantor who promptly shoves me away before grabbing my head to plant a kiss in my hair. I wrap an arm around him.

"We'll discuss what Mary was talking about later," he whispers into my ear. I give small nod and lean heavily against my twin's shoulder.

"Hey guys?" Says Dean from his spot.

"Yeah," we answer simultaneously.

"This has got to be like…what? 600 years of bad luck?" I can't help the guffaw that escapes me, and I giggle the rest of the way to the Impala.

 **SPN**

Charlie is now home safe and sound, and Sam and I are packing up the room while Dean grabs a quick shower. I make a mental not to pick up more medical supplies, as the removal of all the mirror fragments from our bodies heavily depleted our stock of bandages.

"Cals," Sam calls gently from the other side of the room. Oh, man, here we go. "What Mary said, when she addressed _both_ of us…were you – or are you, uh – having 'visions' of Jess's death?" he uses air quotes around "visions." I let out a small sigh before whispering,

"Yes, I think so." We stare at each other for a solid minute. I go on before he can. "But, Sam, if I had known it was Jess or that they were connected to you in any way, I – I would've done something. I swear." I can feel my eyes glistening slightly as the guilt make a visual appearance. Sam walks over quickly to face me.

"Callie, I do not blame you, okay. He grabs my shoulders. You didn't even know Jess at the time or that I was experiencing something similar," he says with those puppy dog eyes of his. He's always understood me so well, always known what I needed to hear. I grab him around the middle in a fierce hug, and he pulls me to him. "I'm still so sorry, Sammy. And you need to know it's not your fault either," I say into his chest. He just hugs me a bit tighter in response. We step away from each other eventually, and he asks the question I've been dreading: "So, pipsqueak, what do you think this all means?"


End file.
